


The Name of the Saarebas, Act I

by norman



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship/Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 77,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norman/pseuds/norman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am a human, a mage, a Saarebas, a qunari. But above everything else, I am Reneka Hawke. When my leash finally broke, I managed to escape after years of imprisonment. However, I had no idea that my path was taking me to the people who I had yearned to meet again. People who would teach me to use my mind to protect, not to destroy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I am Saarebas

**Author's Note:**

> The story follows the events and timeline of the original Dragon Age II game with some changes to the characters and the plot. Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

I ran, faster than I had on the night of my capture. Sharp stones beneath my bare feet got totally ignored and my heavy breathing was so uncontrolled that it was a miracle I hadn't yet passed out. The rags barely worthy to be called clothes were damp from sweat and dirty, but still better than the option of running naked while a group of armed qunari chased me.

The forest was unfamiliar to me and my only way was forward. I trusted my nose when I smelled the ocean and headed towards the sounds of seagulls and waves. In such danger, my keen senses worked almost too well and I planned to use that to my advantage. My mind was blank and my body too weak to cast even the simplest spell as I used all my energy to escape.

That was all that mattered. Escape. I didn't care if my feet came off later or if I had no choice but to swim across the ocean to get away. I had to escape, because this was my one and only chance.

For a fraction of second, I thought about the unrest back at the camp that had provided me such an opportunity. I had no idea what had caused the rage in my tribe, but confusion and disorganized ruckus were rare among an united clan of qunari soldiers. Because of their calm but serious stance, escaping had been impossible. Even if I had been left alone occasionally, I had known of the eyes that were constantly watching me.

Such is life as a freak of nature. I was feared, but not avoided because of it. On the contrary, I was being kept in a tight leash.

During the ruckus, that leash had snapped for the first time in years. Before the one who had been holding it could have noticed, I had started running. One small event had overturned all my instincts, all my fears and personal rules.

Nothing could stop my legs, not anymore. I hadn't ever attempted running away simply because I had been afraid of dying. Now that the scent of salty water was so near, I would have gladly stabbed myself rather than let my tribe punish me if I got caught.

I heard more roaring somewhere behind me, but the noises couldn't break my concentration. I could already see the harbor in the distance and the wind made the trees in front of me swing like curtains, teasing me with images of freedom. It was so close, but my vision was getting blurry all of a sudden. Narrowing my eyes didn't work anymore and the adrenaline gushing in my body had been depleted, leaving me as empty as a bottle of ale in a dwarven feast hall.

The noises behind me got closer. Panic slowly crept through my spine and my hands trembled. Wheezing and gasping, I grabbed my left wrist and squeezed hard, commanding myself to calm down. Running had switched to clumsy walking and I was aware of the leash that would soon reach me again.

My left hand touched the pocket of my so-called trousers. It held the last pieces that could either save or kill me. An item I had been forced to carry around as an experiment to strengthen my endurance and willpower.

I glanced over my shoulder. A gruesome and painful death of torture, humiliation and disdain or a quick death of losing my mind before my head exploded?

I made my choice and took my hand from my pocket. On my palm was a tiny bright red shard of pure lyrium, poisonous in many ways to the most. The tribe however had seen no harm in trying to enhance my abilities by, quite literally, forcing such substance down my throat. After many long years, I had learned how to control the power that would instantly destroy lesser minds, though it was not perfect. Considering my situation, 'perfect' was not something I could even begin to hope for.

My fingers clutched around the shard and opened again. I gulped and put it in my mouth, closing my eyes as I swallowed. Everything fell silent, like I had been transported to a graveyard. It didn't last and after a short while I stared at the sky, seeing nothing but white for a moment. When the lights of the stars appeared in my vision once more, I felt overwhelming amount of magic inside me and sighed from relief. A gradually growing headache would have suggested that my story was over, that eating a rock would finally have been my doom.

There was no time to admire my new strength and after one last glance in the direction of my pursuers, I called forth enough energy to teleport myself all the way to the harbor.

 

# 

 

Certain that the qunari wouldn't give up just because I had disappeared, I quickly began to search for a ship that would leave before the morning. A freak like me couldn't show herself to the qunari soldiers of other tribes that might have occupied the local inns, yet I needed the name of a ship that would set sail as soon as possible. I noticed some Orlesian galleons and smaller ships, but most had been instructed to other docks while the qunari visited the city. It wasn't uncommon behavior. I was well aware of how frightening even two full tribes of qunari soldiers in one place could be.

My luck had turned drastically. Judging from the murmurs I happened to hear from my hiding place, a storm was coming and everyone seemed to rather wait for a better weather than risk losing crew and ships. I knew that once a qunari captain had made up his mind, there was no way to change it. The language the Orlesians spoke was alien to me, but I got the impression that none were too happy about the prolonged stay of the horned men.

I focused for a moment to feel the power of raw lyrium inside me. My forehead was covered in sweat and my fingernails had a bluish color from the shivers, but other than that I was in control. Compared to the first experiences when I had heard annoying whispers and had had an urge to claw my eyes out, I was quite comfortable right now.

I had enough magic to keep teleporting through the whole city, but in the ocean there were no resting spots. Besides, my plan was to conserve energy to make myself invisible and fight if it came to that. I needed someone willing to face the storm.

Suddenly, I picked up a sound of shushing. I fell on my knees and swiftly crawled behind some barrels near one of the buildings. There was movement close to the fishing boats that were separated from the main area of the docks. Shadows sneaked from a back alley and slowly headed to the beach. Were it not for the lyrium, not even I could have seen the mysterious group in the darkness.

One of them gestured the others to stop and went to the gray cliff that divided the harbor and the rest of the coast like a wall. The stranger leaned against the stone and peeked carefully before waving the rest to follow him or her. There weren't many and they all vanished behind the corner of the cliff as silently as they had appeared.

After observing them, I assumed they weren't qunari. They were too short and too careful. I took a glimpse of the dreadnought that belonged to my tribe before dashing after the group.

The waves grew more violent and my feet got wet when I passed the cliff, staying close to it while trying to locate where the figures of shadow had gone. When I lifted my gaze from the ground, I saw a large ship not like the qunari and Orlesian ones at the docks. It was elegant, but not full of carved decorations like the Orlesian ones. It had cannons and sturdy build, but it didn't seem as deadly as the qunari warships. The fog concealed the tree tall masts and the sails looked like lumps of clouds when they weren't opened. The ship was nothing extraordinary but at the same time stood out the most.

It wasn't near the beach, but the distance to it could be cleared by swimming. As I looked at the water, I was stunned to see the mysterious group there, headed towards the ship. There was no moonlight, so I still couldn't tell if they were humans or elves.

Any race other than the qunari was a better option for me, so I ran forward. I doubted that they would turn around to face me while swimming with such a hurry, which was reason enough for me not to lower my head and crouch to keep myself hidden. I ordered my legs to move faster than ever, telling them that this was the only way for me to complete my escape.

While the first figures started to climb the ropes on the side of the ship, I stopped behind a bush of roses and muttered few words. With one gesture, I finished the spell and became invisible. Such magic was straining to sustain, but I only needed it until I would find a place to hide aboard. I stood up again and concentrated, taking a good look at the deck of the ship. It wasn't too far, but the fog lingering on top of the ocean made it tough to see properly. I put faith in my abilities and believed there were no other mages who could detect my presence.

After the last person had climbed up, I gathered a large portion of the energy the lyrium had given me and cast a teleportation spell. It pulled me in and only a second later I found myself on the ship, surrounded by humans running back and forth to release the sails and raise the anchor.

I watched my step as I moved out of the way to the door leading to the lower deck most likely. While they couldn't see me, I had the advantage of perceiving the people who were not allies nor enemies at the moment. Behind the steering wheel was obviously the captain. It was a woman with soft-looking tanned skin, dressed in a revealing white tunic and gorgeous jewelery. Although I hated anything that reminded me of chains and shackles, the golden collar around her neck was magnificent in my opinion. When I had been forced to wear a collar, I would have proudly accepted it had it been as beautiful as the one this captain had. The curls of her dark hair settled like rivers made of chocolate and the blue bandana gave more contrast to the color.

For some reason I had been so captivated of her beauty that I almost didn't dodge in time when one of the men lost his balance and fell down just beside the door. Collision with him could have ruined my concentration and I learned from it immediately. As the ship was being steered away from the coast, I slipped through the door at the same time when the man who had fallen was taken inside.

I quickly walked down the stairs before the others supporting their comrade could and scanned the area with few glances. Judging from the smell of fish, the kitchen and food storage were somewhere on my left. I heard lots of grunting and laughing noises right ahead and when the injured man was taken there, I was certain that the area was the crew's quarters. The only choice left was to go to the right.

The ship was unexpectedly clean and had been well cared for. I didn't notice any rats or mold and no foul stench filled the air. A skilled carpenter had made repairs to the floor and walls and the rooms were more homey than anything I had witnessed. I had a home long ago, but couldn't remember what it was like to live in such a place. My tribe had made it perfectly clear that I was an outsider, left alive only because of my skill.

Before I got too cozy, I continued into one of the rooms located far away from the main hall. Through the door, I could already smell the scent of incense and when I entered, I could instantly tell that it was the female captain's room. I hadn't seen other women during the hassle of departure, but I could sense the presence of the brown skinned woman inside the cabin. There were luxuries I hadn't dreamed of in ages: coffee, sweets, a double bed with thick red pillows and a bath. Seeing the last one made me almost strip right there and wash off the clods of dirt from my body. The comfy bed however was even more tempting. I couldn't recall the last time I had slept on something that could have been described as 'soft'.

Clattering sounds of steps in the hallway alarmed me and I reacted by shutting the door a bit too hard. I bit my lip and cursed when the sounds halted, indicating that someone had heard the noise I had made. When I heard the steps again, they were slower and silent, like those of a sneaking assassin. My focus was failing and I ended up recklessly using even more of the lyrium energy inside me to sustain my invisibility spell, causing my body to reject the substance and make me dizzy.

The sounds neared and when someone was almost behind the door, I scrambled on top of the bed and rolled down to its empty left side, hiding in the corner and hoping that whoever was coming wasn't about to use the wardrobe right next to me. I panted heavily and tried to calm my breath before the person entered.

It was the pretty captain and she had unsheathed her two daggers. There was a wild expression on her face and her golden eyes gazed around the room like a hawk. Despite the high heels of her long boots, her steps were muffled and I spotted no openings in her pose, not even when she walked. I had met many men who had no other satisfaction in their lives than killing and they had learned to become masters at that. Although the captain seemed more gentle, she still reminded me of those men.

“I know someone is in here,” she stated, not lowering her weapons. “So let us act like adults and solve this without a mess.”

At least I understood her language. Her exotic appearance had fooled me but I was glad that if these were my last moments, I wasn't going to be killed by a citizen of foreign lands, hearing nothing but gibberish words as my life would fade away.

“Come on, don't be shy,” the captain smirked. “I'm willing to talk here, don't make me change my mood.”

Her voice was girlish, something I had missed while living among a tribe full of qunari soldiers with their tones of baritone. I had been taught to assume a battle whenever encountering a stranger, because that was the only thing I had been allowed to do. Fight after a fight, blood spilled by me and my enemies.

Now I didn't have the goosebumps of danger and I had dropped my guard completely. I never ran away from a battle, but I also never sought for it willingly. Magic was still strong in me and if I had to fight, I had no choice but to believe in my victory. Charging against a ship full of humans would only make me the same as the qunari I so much hated.

The captain had a displeased glare and she seemed ready to attack anything. “If it's your wish, then I will smash everything in this cabin to smoke you out. I'm sure that at least one of the swings will hit you and then it will be too late to parley.”

As she moved closer to the bed, I whispered a command word and let go of the invisibility spell. My eyes were instantly captured by the captain's, but I saw her relax just a little. The tension in the air gradually disappeared and the knuckles of the woman's hands weren't white anymore. I hadn't anticipated such a reaction. Whoever I had been introduced earlier had shot a glare of disgust at me and treated me no differently than a dog. If the others like me in the tribe hadn't shown me the good things in this world, I would have struck the captain down right after boarding her ship.

She was staring at me with big eyes of wonder, not anger. “Well,” she sighed and put her daggers away, “looks like I was wrong to expect a pirate assassin of Castillon's crew.”

_Pirate?_ I gasped and glanced around like it would provide me some proof.

“Are you a runaway slave?” the woman casually sat on the bed, still eying at me. “You certainly look like one with those clothes, if you can call them that.”

My lips made a thin line and I was actually embarrassed for a while. The captain obviously wasn't bothered of how exposed her breasts and thighs were, while I didn't even know what it was like to live as a woman anymore. Once per month I was reminded of my gender, but that was about the only thing that separated me from the qunari men of my tribe.

“It wouldn't hurt to at least tell me your name,” the woman giggled. “I am Isabela, captain of the Siren's Call. If Castillon didn't send you here, then you have nothing to worry about.”

_My name_ , I thought and felt a sudden warmth inside my cold body. No qunari mage had a name, only a title and even that was an insulting one. From the day of my capture, I had repeated my real name three times in the morning and three times in the evening so I wouldn't forget it. When I couldn't say it anymore, I had written it on the dirt. Three times in the morning, three times in the evening.

I hungered to hear my name once more in a voice that wasn't mine. I rubbed my hands and saw a piece of paper and a quill on the captain's table. As politely as I could, I pointed at them and showed a pleading expression.

Isabela lifted an eyebrow. “You can't speak?” she asked.

There was no point in trying to explain what it meant to be a mage among the qunari to her, so I nodded and looked apologetic. She blinked twice and rose up to get the paper and handed it to me. She dipped the tip of the quill in a bottle of ink and offered it with a curious, yet somehow sad look in her eyes.

I managed a slight smile as thanks and began to write. Every letter brought me delight and I could hear myself laughing in my head as my name was slowly being formed on the paper. The first name was my identity. It was me, not a Saarebas. The surname was my family. All my true loved ones, not the Arishok, my leash the Arvaarad nor the qunari soldiers who would have rather seen me burn alive.

With one last glimpse at the paper, I gave it back to the captain. I followed how her eyes moved and was happy to see her read it at least three times through before lifting her gaze.

“Reneka Hawke, eh?” Isabela grinned.

I nodded and blushed a bit after hearing my name from lips not mine.

Isabela walked back to her table and took one small nail from one of the drawers. After rolling it in her fingers for a second, she raised the paper with my name on it on the wall and attached it with the nail. She let go and tapped her cheek with a forefinger, as if she was admiring a new painting.

Her eyes flew at me again and she smiled. “Alright, Reneka Hawke,” she said. “I welcome you to my ship. Try to behave well.”

 


	2. The Brewing Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

Isabela let me sleep in her cabin. Although she offered the other side of her bed, I couldn't accept and had no words to explain to her how poor I had become at trusting people right away. She hadn't been wrong to suggest that I should catch a few hours of sleep before meeting with her crew. I was still slightly drugged by the lyrium and had been running for my life only minutes or an hour ago. Isabela told me that I could wash myself when I woke up, afraid that if she left me alone in a hot bath I would get too relaxed and drown myself. Humor from humans was one of the things I had greatly missed, although it was going to take some time to distinguish an insult from sarcasm.

Even the couch in her room looked way more comfortable than the hard floor I had got used to till now and when I got one of the big red pillows and a warm blanket, I fell asleep immediately after closing my eyes.

 

#

 

The sound of the door opening woke me up after spending wonderful time in the deepest sleep I had ever experienced. For a moment, I didn't recognize Isabela and tried to assume my fighting stance, failing miserably. The raw lyrium had taken its toll and I felt like a damp piece of cloth. My muscles were like air and I couldn't recall a single spell in my confusion. The voice of my conscience ordered me to calm down and when I realized how stupidly I had acted, I lowered my gaze and covered my face in my palms.

“Hey now, sweet thing, no need for that,” Isabela's comforting voice said and she gave a pat on my shoulder. “I'm sure you've been through a lot and that your reaction was justified. I mean, I too sometimes greet people with my daggers bared at their throats. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Dumbfound, I looked at the pirate captain and burst into a laughter. It sounded strange hearing myself laugh so carelessly and the higher my pitch became, the more I wanted to laugh. Only Isabela's shocked face made me stop and I proceeded to wipe tears of joy from my cheeks.

“Aw, you have such a funny laugh,” she snickered. “If only you could talk, I'm sure we would have a great time gossiping and giggling like two idiots.”

I grinned a little, but still didn't want to tell her the whole story. It's not that I didn't want to just blurt the truth out, it was because I simply couldn't. Although I had been a human, I received no special treatment as a Saarebas. In fact, before I could become too dangerous, my Arvaarad had taken precautions to ensure the safety of the tribe. After that, it took a year before I could cast spells without the ability to speak again.

I still found myself moving my lips when using magic, even though it was my silent mind that spoke the words.

Isabela broke the awkward silence by tossing me a white towel. “Here, I prepared the bath for you while you slept. Don't worry, no-one knows about you yet and no man from my crew would be brave enough to come into my cabin without a permission.”

Her confident voice gave me strength and I nodded in agreement. She took her leave and I walked to the wooden screen that separated the bathing area from the rest of the room. I touched the water and it was hot, a rare feeling for someone who had always washed herself in a chilly lake. On good days, me and the other Saarebas were given a whole bucket of warm water in addition to the cold ones. Usually we mixed the contents together to get several buckets of water not hot, but not too cold either.

I was more than ready to take off my sweaty torn rags and didn't even bother to lift them from the floor. When I detected the sound of the lyrium shards hitting the floor however, I removed them from the pocket and placed them in the corner away from the water. I stepped in the tub and felt my nerves relax like someone had been pulling the ends of a string for decades before releasing it. Some water splashed over the edges as I sat down and stretched my legs with certainly the most smug smirk I had ever shown. I cupped my hands and caught some foam in them, watching it intently before gently blowing it off. As I lay there, I couldn't remember the last time I had played like a child, without the fear of being interrupted by yelling and a slap across my face.

Isabela had put a small brush next to the tub and I needed not to be told to scrub myself completely like a mother would order her child. I grabbed it and started with my arms. The bristles took lot more filth off my skin than my nails or cloth ever could and I saw no harm in brushing hard enough to make my arm all red. When I moved to scrub my legs, I accidentally scratched an old scar on my calf and grimaced, pausing for a moment before continuing. I had been more lucky than the other Saarebas of my tribe, who had been often whipped, beaten and forced to starve. As a human, the qunari had thought me weak and fragile, not worthy of such physical punishments. Instead, they had resorted to more mental ones.

I could honestly say that my mind was more messed up than my body, although I had never allowed my leash to change who I was. No matter how brutally they used my mind to kill others, I was in control and would never become one of them.

My skin tingled from the thorough scrubbing and I stayed still for a while, enjoying the warmth all around me. I shook my head from left to right and straightened by back to wash my hair. It was short and dark as night, with some whites probably from stress. I couldn't tell how old I exactly was, but surely not so old that finding white hair on my head would be normal.

I thought about the captain's curly thick chocolate hair, feeling a bit jealous. Sighing, I brushed my hand across the top of my head, hoping that my hair grew too now that the Arvaarad wasn't here to keep it short.

“Reneka?” Isabela called from the door. “It's just me, I'm coming in.”

It's not like I could answer her, so I waited for her to enter and believed that there were no others with her. The taste of constant battle was still in my mouth and I couldn't help my body becoming a bit tense, just in case. At least I was free and clean if I were to die.

I didn't wish for such thoughts, but knew it was going to take more than a bath and a soft pillow to erase everything I had been compelled to learn, even if I didn't agree with the teachings.

I heard Isabela opening the wardrobe that was beside the spot where I had hidden earlier. Sounds of swishing and rustling came from her direction, like she was gathering bedsheets. Her steps came closer and she stopped behind the screen.

“Are you a shy one or can I see the face of the person I'm talking to?” she chuckled. “I'll take silence as 'yes please go ahead'.”

I remained quiet and Isabela walked forward. Privacy was a luxury a Saarebas didn't have. My Arvaarad had been constantly watching and after sharing baths and beds with the qunari mages of my tribe while all of us had been naked, I wasn't too bothered of my exposed body in front of others. I learned that it wasn't because of me not being attractive that it didn't cause the soldiers to blush, but because it was not my role to be feminine and pretty. The label of Saarebas was enough for the qunari to ignore naked human breasts.

I was more embarrassed of seeing Isabela's almost totally revealed chest because she was the first human woman I had spent time with in years.

Isabela carried a pile of clothes in various colors and she smiled at me. “These are mine, but should fit you as well,” she said and put them all on the bed. “Every woman has the right to pick her own outfit, so feel free to choose whatever you like from my collection.”

When she noticed the rags beside the tub, I flushed a bit and looked away. It was a moment when I was quite relieved for not being able to stutter like a fool and come up with a pitiful excuse for wearing something so horrible.

It wasn't a mocking sneer I saw on her lips, but a kind one. “With your permission, I would like to throw these into the sea. I don't fancy a rat problem on my ship.”

Her joke made me laugh. I knew the best how awful my clothes smelled and wouldn't have been surprised if not even rats dared to nest in them.

My eyes closed and I made a gesture of sweeping my hand in the air that I had seen an Orlesian host make when he had welcomed the Arishok into his home a week ago. In my mind, the gesture translated as 'please go ahead' and judging from the approving smile on Isabela's face, she had comprehended my sign language.

“I think I need to tie a couple of heavy stones to these so they'll sink to the bottom of the ocean where they will never be found again,” the captain made a serious statement and stuffed the rags in a sack before taking them out of her cabin.

 

#

 

I couldn't ever thank Isabela properly for her generosity and wouldn't insult her by refusing the help. From the clothes she had spread on her bed, I had found a sky blue tunic and white trousers that left my shins uncovered. I hadn't worn boots in a long time but Isabela had suggested a pair of sandals for me. They looked like a gladiator's with lots of leather straps to firmly keep the on my feet. I preferred to feel the wind in my toes, so the sandals soon became my favorite. While Isabela had gone to give orders to her crew, I had knelt beside the emptied tub and put the lyrium shards back in my new clean pocket.

The captain's cabin was still my safe house and she had brought me food there, giving me time to get adjusted to the new situation and the upcoming introduction to her crew. I didn't know why she didn't ask questions or act overly curious. My lack of replying with words was one reason of course, but Isabela seemed the kind of woman who wouldn't trust people any quicker than I would. She most likely thought that I was an escaped slave, which wasn't too far from the truth and she knew I had magic. If I remembered correctly, people like me were called apostates among the humans. Was she kind to me simply out of pity or was it personal, I couldn't tell.

I didn't sleep well during the night. Restless dreams kept me awake and I had a bad sensation. Shivers raised the hair on my skin and I was waiting for a stab from every direction. My Arvaarad had no power over me anymore, but I couldn't shake the feeling in my gut that I was in danger. When I glanced at Isabela who sweetly slept under two blankets, I winced and realized that she too was in danger.

Against her wishes, I sneaked out of the room and made my way to the deck. Most of the crew were snoring in their quarters and I decided to use the shadows rather than cast an invisibility spell to stay hidden. I peeked through the small round window on the door leading to the deck and saw no guards. With one swift movement, I opened and closed it fast so that no-one could detect me. I crouched and quickly tiptoed behind one of the masts.

One pirate was taking a piss near the steering wheel and another sat across him with a bottle of some liquid in his hands. Luckily, the bird's nest was empty so I didn't have to worry about being found out by someone above me.

My patience was rewarded and the two men decided to take a walk to the other end of the ship for a change. I circled the mast as they passed me and once they were gone, I headed to the stairs that took me to the command deck as I had named it. The waves had increased in size and strength and the wind was so heavy the air smelled of bland mix of scents.

The hems of my trousers were flapping wildly. The qunari had spoken of a brewing storm at the harbor, but I hadn't been out of Isabela's cabin for a day and missed the signs. Ominous clouds had filled the sky and I estimated a downpour in about an hour. I saw no coastline and became slightly concerned of how the wood of the Siren's Call creaked, warning us of a tough ordeal ahead.

Before the pirates came back, I scurried back to the lower deck and crept quietly to Isabela's cabin. To my surprise, when I carefully opened the door, she was sitting on her bed and looking at the window before turning to face me.

“Ah,” I gasped, not sure if I should have entered or run away.

Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “Wow, that was the first sound I have heard from you,” she chuckled. “You'd make a damn excellent thief, you know. It was the rumbling outside that woke me up, not you and that is quite an achievement.”

I bowed as an apology after I had shut the door, but Isabela waved her hand at me.

“Sorry if I didn't inform you of the coming storm earlier, I just figured you had enough on your mind already,” she said and stared at the waves. “Don't look like that, the Siren's Call has seen worse. We'll survive.”

Her carefree attitude was oddly relaxing. My shoulders slumped and I managed to breathe normally again. When I sat on the couch, I too could hear the noises of nearing thunder. It was both terrifying and exciting that my body was automatically preparing itself for a fight. I was thankful for my reflexes and skills, but I had wanted to abandon my life of blood and suffering after gaining my freedom. My utopia was to live in a peaceful land free of killing and destruction while wearing a nice flower wreath on my head, my black hair so long that the braids would tickle my lower back.

A sea storm wasn't a battle of steel and magic, but despite my countless efforts, I couldn't make my body listen. My teeth gritted against my will.

 

#

 

An hour later the storm hit the ship with full force. Isabela had instructed me to stay below the deck and she would skip introducing me to the others by stating that I was a friend and part of the group now. Although it sounded very vague to me, I trusted the captain's word and strangely enough no-one stopped to question me as I wandered in the hallways. The atmosphere brought by the storm may have aided me to blend in. The only person who said anything to me was a man wearing a greasy apron and all he did was tell me to 'hold on tight and do not throw up'.

I was no sailor and wouldn't be much help on the deck anyways, but doing nothing was not me either. I respected Isabela's command and tried not no get in everyone's way by standing next to some ale barrels that were under a pile of ropes. The ship was swinging back and forth heavily and some loose stuff from the kitchen like fruits and dishes fell off the counters and I watched them slowly roll across the floor. Some of the apples were stomped on by the pirates hurrying to lower the sails and all I could think of was how it was such a waste of good food.

More shouting mainly in Isabela's voice came from the deck and I was certain that I heard a man yelling that one of the sails was lost when the ropes had snapped. The captain replied by reminding that it was just a piece of fabric, not a human life and I couldn't agree more.

All of a sudden I realized how valuable I could be. I glanced at my hands and sensed the magic in my mind, potent and powerful even without red lyrium. I remembered how I had shielded my leash and the soldiers from enemies more deadly than thunder and waves.

My fists balled and I marched to the stairs. Few men shot puzzled glances at me, but didn't make me stop. I was about to open the door when someone rushed inside with a pirate who had hit his head and was bleeding. Fortunately, they had no idea of me being a mage yet so I wasn't asked to heal the man. I was relieved, because I didn't want to disappoint them by revealing that I had no skill in such arts. My abilities were only meant to destroy and ensure victories.

I ran to the deck and spotted Isabela immediately behind the wheel. Her gaze followed me as I fought against the wind to get to her. She was frowning, but not furious.

“Honey, what are you doing here?!” she had to shout over the loud storm. “It's dangerous and quite cold as well, if you haven't noticed!”

The clothes I had received from Isabela provided more warmth and comfort than anything I had worn before, even after they got stuck on my body due to the rain. Cold weather wasn't an issue for me, so I gave her a smile as a message that I didn't mind. I couldn't hear her mumbling answer, but didn't saw her shoo me away either.

My fingers twitched and I got ready to show her what I could do with my magic for her, but my attention was taken by a figure far behind the ship. It was huge but concealed in darkness and no matter how I squinted, I couldn't get a clear visual of what it was. The rain blocked everything and kept slashing at my eyes, making me blink continuously.

“What are you looking at?” Isabela asked and stared in the same direction as I did, eying at me and the horizon. “Can you see something?”

A flash of lightning struck the ocean near the ghostly figure and my jaw dropped in horror. I could never mistake a qunari dreadnought when I saw one.

A lump like a stone rose to my throat and I forgot to breathe until Isabela grabbed my shoulder. “Reneka, what is it?” her voice was demanding. “Here, write with your finger on my palm and I'll guess the letters.”

She gave her hand and waited for me to get a grip. I was too busy asking myself why the qunari were right behind us and kept doing so while I wrote the words 'qunari ship' on Isabela's wet palm.

I turned to look away for a moment to calm myself, but my head halted when I noticed Isabela's shocked expression, similar to what I had shown seconds ago. It was as if 'qunari ship' had been the last thing she had expected me to write.

“Well shit,” she cussed and chewed her lower lip. “I had no idea that they would pursue us in this storm.”

My brow lifted and I gave a quite perplexed leer at the captain. Logical thinking and strategy had been my strengths besides the title of a Saarebas. I was pretty good at reading people, because I couldn't have a proper conversation with them. Despite all that, I hadn't stopped to wonder why there had been human pirates on Orlesian land, especially when a qunari tribe had been invited there for a meeting.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Isabela grinned as the wind tousled the soaked locks of her hair. “I thought we were safe and let you believe that.”

_What did you do, Isabela?_ I urged to ask her, feeling more frustrated than ever for my inability to speak. It was clear that her crew had caused the ruckus at my tribe. There was no other reason I could think of for the qunari to come after her.

Although I didn't want to recall any memories from my time with the qunari, I imagined the Arishok once more in my mind. I silently repeated his last orders in my head, the moment before he left to meet with the Orlesians. He had told us to prepare to leave once he had acquired the Tome of Koslun back. According to my Arvaarad it was a book containing sacred scriptures by the founder of the Qun.

My knowledge of pirates wasn't too great, but everyone knew they were thieves and treasure hunters, at least in stories. Tome of Koslun could be sold for a ridiculously high price outside the qunari lands, if there was a person mad enough to steal it.

I couldn't tear my gaze off Isabela's eyes. My escape and freedom were all thanks to her, but due to my rotten luck, I had picked the one and only ship that would be targeted by a qunari dreadnought full of soldiers to teach me what kind of fate awaited a rebellious Saarebas.

 


	3. Against the Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

For Isabela and her crew, surviving the storm seemed to be the main focus. My eyes were however at the qunari dreadnought that was closing in dangerously fast. There was no time to write an explanation for the captain about my past and why I knew the qunari were chasing her. I doubted that the Arishok would waste resources to capture me again just to skin me alive, but if we couldn't shake them off, he was going to get both the Tome and an escaped Saarebas.

I still found it hard to believe that Isabela would have stolen the holy scripture. The tribe had traveled to Orlais just for the book. The exchange was supposed to be an easy task and we were ready to go back home after having stayed for a week. Then the Arishok had returned, furious and ready to kill anything on his path. A chaos had erupted, my Arvaarad had fallen on the ground and I had heard the massive collar around my neck click.

Not for a second had I stopped to think about the qunari, yet here they were again, like restless spirits that refused to give up what belonged to them. A book, a slave, it didn't matter. The qunari were too proud people to accept a defeat, especially if it had been a 'lesser race' that had bested them.

“How long do you reckon we have, Reneka?!” Isabela shouted as her hands clasped the steering wheel.

As long as the qunari were in my sights, I was never safe. The fact that they had set sail in the storm had already decreased the time of my freedom. How could I feel free with bloodthirsty men right behind me?

I raised my hands and spread all my fingers, showing them to the captain.

“Ten hours?” Isabela had a hopeful smirk.

My mind was in no mood for jokes and I shook my head.

“Ten minutes...” Isabela snorted. “They are faster than I thought then.”

I wanted to tell her how mercilessly deadly an underestimated qunari dreadnought could be and that she should at least know her enemies, but remained in eternal silent and bit my lip instead. My life was in the hands of a cheerful pirate.

The sound of low boom startled me and I spun around, glaring at the huge shadow in the distance.

“I'd say that was a cannon,” Isabela stated. “What kind of cannon makes such a loud noise?”

I touched my pocket, sensing the lyrium through the cloth. The other mages of my tribe were on the ship and with their help, the qunari would catch with us in no time, especially if their Arvaarads were pushing them almost over their limits. I was certain that the Arishok was willing to sacrifice a couple of Saarebas to retrieve the Tome of Koslun.

It had been only some hours since I had eaten red lyrium. My body wouldn't be able to handle another dose so soon and despite my strength, I didn't trust my skills enough to face the whole tribe even while drugged.

I could have concentrated my magic to give us more speed, but that would have lasted only for a while. The storm made it even more impossible.

Pressing my lips together, I climbed to the command deck and grabbed Isabela's shoulder. She gave me an irritated leer for interrupting her, but her expression softened when I showed her my hand, holding two fingers up.

“What?” she gasped. “Where did the eight minutes go?!”

Her question was answered when I heard another loud boom and water splashing near the Siren's Call. Both of us turned to see the dreadnought clearly. Flashes of lightning confirmed my suspicions as I spotted at least three qunari Saarebas on board, their arms lifted and surrounded by clouds of energy.

I refused to panic, although our only chance to avoid an encounter was either lose or sink the enemy ship. My eyes gazed at the gray reinforcements attached to the dreadnought with spikes that could tear Isabela's ship if it got too close. If the Saarebas' aided with the cannons, they could have shot more accurately and with greater speed. It was a war ship unlike any other and I hoped that if our ship couldn't damage it, the storm would.

“Prepare the cannons!” Isabela commanded and squeezed the handle of the wheel even tighter. “Distract them, aim at their weapons and the deck!”

An idea washed over me. If the qunari could empower their cannons, who says I couldn't?

Wiping my wet face, I located the men who were heading to the lower deck after Isabela's orders, believing that they would lead me to the armory. The captain's voice vanished into the wind when she attempted to get my attention as I ran towards the door. I didn't know whether I should have been more angry with Isabela, especially for not warning me in what kind of volcano I would be jumping in by staying on her ship.

The pirates had the duty of protecting their craft and I was as unseen as a winter weasel in snow. People were aware of me, but weren't looking closely enough. I kept trailing behind the two men who hurried forward in front of me and could already smell the gunpowder. There were bound to be some terrified stares aimed at me, but all I cared about was getting rid of the qunari.

I spotted a cannon that no-one was using at the moment and sought for ammunition. The pirates had practically spread all the cannonballs around so they wouldn't have to stop even for a second to dig them out of containers. I thought back to the couple of times I had loaded a cannon, although they had been massive compared to the ones at hand currently. Having faith in my magic, I grabbed one heavy ball and began to load the cannon. Someone asked me if I needed help, but I shook my head, glad of the fact that I didn't move my lips by mistake. Under pressure, I sometimes found myself doing so and would try to remember how my voice had sounded in the past.

I wiped my hands to the wet trousers and prepared to fire. When I was offered a torch to lit the fuse of the cannon, I acted like I hadn't noticed and put my hands against the base, closing my eyes. I began to feel heat in my palms and I let my energy flow into the cannon and the ball within. It took all of my focus, but I was quite certain that it had become awfully quiet around me. While I had been leashed, the probability of me causing harm had been almost zero so I couldn't fully understand why the crew was gradually growing nervous. I supposed it was just another human thing I had forgotten about and would get used to it.

My lids arose and I checked the angle of the cannon. It was targeted right at the hull of the dreadnought. The sturdy wood had always been impermeable by its foes and it was as if the ship itself taunted others to try and attack it, certain of their failure.

My desire to show the tribe how ferociously I was prepared to utilize my powers against them stirred the spirit of a fighter inside me. The corner of my mouth rose up a little and the base of the cannon turned almost pink. I could feel how the cannonball trembled and was ready to charge. In a flash, it all became personal.

I inhaled, held my breath and fired the cannon. It released a louder sound than the qunari weapons had and the whole cannon slammed against the wall and would have fallen into the ocean if the hole on the hull had been any larger. A red ball straight from hell flew in the air, leaving a trail of flame behind it and when it finally hit the dreadnought, it caused an explosion that tore a massive hole in the middle of the qunari ship. I saw men being knocked off board and soldiers jumped into the sea willingly when the fire began to swallow the destroyed areas. I was quite certain that some the pieces that flew in the air before splashing into the water were severed limbs and maybe heads.

All around me I could hear the words 'holy Maker' or 'sweet Andraste'. I still didn't see the Arishok but as the leader he had to be on the dreadnought. When I noticed one of the Saarebas' falling into the flames I had created, it saddened me. They had been my only comrades at the tribe, only because I hadn't been allowed to show myself to anyone else without my Arvaarad. Regardless, I had to swallow the bitter pill of considering them as my enemies too. If I wished to leave my past, I couldn't save even tiny fragments of it.

The sound of familiar clatter of heels stomping the floor behind me made me think of Isabela and I wasn't shocked to see her approaching me.

“What in the name of Maker's ass was that?” she huffed.

Innocently, I pointed at the cannon that was probably useless from the damage it had taken.

Isabela looked at me and chuckled. “Well whatever you did, it got them really angry. I suggest you do it again soon before they will counterattack.”

I gulped, thinking about the Saarebas that seemed to have fallen. My mind couldn't focus and I couldn't remember if he had actually cast a barrier and headed to the cannons to continue the work of the killed qunari. Isabela was giving me a weird leer when I spun around, walked a bit forward and then stopped to think what was it that I had intended again.

“Captain!” a man's voice screamed from the door to the upper deck. “The head of the dreadnought just turned! Their weapons are aimed at us!”

While Isabela blinked her eyes in confusion, I gazed through the exit hole of the cannons and caught a glimpse of a qunari with a heavy collar like I had worn and he was attempting the same trick I had done. His powers were being drained due to a magical shield that protected him from the flames and I was sure the Saarebas was going to sacrifice his life by giving all of his magic, blood and energy to sink us. His arms were wrapped around the pipe of a cannon on his ship and the weapon was so hot I could see how it burned his skin.

My mouth opened as the Saarebas was shrouded in bright light. As a reflex, I tried to shout the crew to take cover, but produced only a panicked noise. With no other alternative, I threw myself at Isabela and we both collapsed a second before the boom of a cannon being fired. I had barely enough time to wiggle my fingers in order to create a strong barrier and close my eyes tightly before the cannonball hit the Siren's Call.

 

#

 

My concentration broke when I hit the ocean. I had suppressed all my senses and didn't move a muscle to keep the barrier tough enough to protect me and Isabela. The magic was released when I sunk underwater however and I was forced to face the reality again.

The first fact that alarmed me was not that I couldn't breathe, but that I couldn't find Isabela. I had held her since the cannonball was fired at the ship, but at some point something had separated us. When I saw no trace of her anywhere nearby, I started to swim towards the surface, ignoring the floating bodies and debris.

I gasped as soon as air filled my lungs again and stared at the wrecked Siren's Call that had both guided me away from the qunari and brought me back to them. The masts had crumbled from the fire and the ship was split in two. Pieces of timber surrounded it, as if they had gathered to witness the death of their parent. I glanced around but couldn't spot the dreadnought. The storm hadn't eased significantly and I had no idea where the waves had led us. The qunari had most likely managed to steer their ship a bit further after the Saarebas' attack, but I assumed the dreadnought would not take them far in its current condition. Because it seemed we were in the middle of nowhere, my hope of the tribe meeting their final fate was lit once more.

My voice was still strong, although it couldn't form any clear words. Despite that, I shouted and scanned around if someone had heard the call. I tried to swim in the raging waters and continued to yell. Thunder competed against my voice and I had to be careful not to drink any of the salty water. If I had survived a qunari dreadnought attack with people who had ruined my life, I wasn't going to submit to a death by drowning or choking on anything else than red lyrium. That I still would accept, because the whole idea was stupid to begin with and I still chose to do it.

I coughed and shouted again, sensing how the cold water was making me weak. No-one answered me and the Siren's Call disappeared below the waves, leaving only timber and dead members of its crew to remind of a lost battle.

I had heard of a human saying that the captain always went down with the ship. Among the qunari, the whole tribe followed the commander of a dreadnought and if he fell, the others had to sacrifice themselves too to honor his death.

Taking a deep breath and holding it in for a while, I let out the loudest shout yet that was stronger than the wind and the thunder. I felt how my body wanted to give up but I was saving my magic until I could confirm that I was the only one alive.

Just when I was about to grab an empty barrel floating next to me to rest, I saw a glittering light not too far away from me, like a treasure. When I thought of gold, I was reminded of the jewelery around Isabela's neck and I began to swim forward with greater determination than ever.

There was a person on top of a thick plank that turned out to be the door of Isabela's cabin. The captain herself was lying on it and I swam even faster to her. When I reached Isabela, I checked her pulse and sighed when my fingers felt the blood flowing inside her wrist. She had probably hit her head when the ship had received its death blow. The impact could have been the reason why I had lost grip of her. Either someone of her crew had helped her on the door or she had climbed by herself just before losing consciousness.

The storm relentlessly warned me of its presence and lightning struck the grave of the Siren's Call which was uncomfortably close. I eyed in every direction, desperately seeking for a solution. If we didn't drown, the cold was going to kill us anyway.

I gently shook Isabela, testing if I could get her awake but got no response. I touched the back of her head and shivered when my palm was smeared in blood. Isabela still had the blue bandana, so I lowered it a little and tied it firmly. I presumed that she wouldn't mind buying a replacement if the old one ended up saving her life.

As I carefully laid her down, a dark massive shadow in the horizon appeared in my vision. I squinted and held my hand above my eyes to block the rain, waiting for the thunder to provide me some light.

When my wishes were heard, the shadow turned out to be land. I couldn't recall the last time I had sincerely believed in miracles but had no other explanation. Out of all the possibilities, Isabela's ship had sunk so near to the coast.

For me it was near. No average man could swim the distance in the storm. My magic heated my body and told me to act now if ever.

I tilted the piece of wood on which Isabela was and caught her when she rolled into the water. Using red lyrium under the circumstances was out of question and even though I trusted my strength to carry both of us, I had never before taken extra passengers with me while teleporting. There was nothing to rest on between us and the coast, which meant that I needed enough power to get us to the land with a single casting of the teleportation spell.

An idea popped into my mind that regrettably was the only choice I had to ensure our survival. I unsheathed one of the two daggers Isabela still had strapped on her back and glared at the sharp blade before I brought it to my right arm that wasn't wrapped around Isabela's waist. With a quick movement, I cut a deep wound and clenched my teeth from pain. The dagger dropped from my fingers and I began to cast the spell, drawing couple of circles in the air.

The ocean swirled around me as I gathered my energy and for a moment it felt like I was pushing the water away. I mumbled the correct words in my head and lifted my bloodied arm, both disgusted and thankful for the forbidden art. I promised myself that it was going to be the last time I would resort to such a miserable decision and those thoughts stayed with me as we got sucked into the space of nothingness.

 

#

 

When the teleportation was over, I held my breath, certain that we would fall into the ocean but it was dry land that greeted my feet. I slumped on the ground and put Isabela beside me with trembling hands. I couldn't sense the tiniest bit of mana inside me and chills ran through my spine. There were no trees or anything that would burn and keep us warm. Just stones, sand and wind. Had I not promised myself not to use blood magic, I would have given a few drops more to start a fire.

But as I looked at my bleeding arm, the thought of dying from blood loss after everything I had experienced since my escape made my lips curve into a pathetic grin.

Suddenly, I heard Isabela groan and her fingers twitched. I moved closer and called her name only in my thoughts, little surprised that her eyes started to open.

“Ugh, what...” Isabela's pupils went from left to right until they focused on mine. “Reneka?”

I smiled and helped the captain to sit up, making sure that the bandana didn't come off. She tried to touch her wound, but I stopped her, shaking my head.

Isabela snorted and rubbed her shoulder. “I guess it's pointless to ask about the Siren's Call and my men?” she sneered.

I glanced at the ground and looked at the sea behind us. Isabela had certainly lost almost everything she had owned, unless she had a home somewhere. While I understood what it felt like to have freedom deprived of you, my possessions at the tribe had been so minimal that I couldn't comprehend what was going on in Isabela's mind. The ship had obviously been important to her, otherwise she wouldn't have taken such a good care of it and bothered to decorate her cabin.

Isabela gave me her usual girlish look. “Well, after I have relocated an item that was on the ship, you will have to write your name on a paper again and I'll put that on the wall of the new cabin of the new Siren's Call. And you'll be the first member of my new crew.”

Her words stunned me. The qunari relic had gone with the ship, there was no point in searching for a ruined book. Instead of making senseless gestures, I wrote my question on the sand but didn't reveal that I knew what the item was. Isabela was reading my message as I proceeded and she was proudly smirking.

“Ah, that's the most intriguing part,” she said. “You see, the item was magically sealed in a box that could only be opened by a powerful mage. It wasn't heavy, so I assume the box will eventually find its way to the shore. The wind is blowing in our direction and all.”

I didn't understand her. Why was the Tome worth so much trouble? She had angered the qunari by stealing it and she should be safe now that it wasn't in her hands anymore. If anyone from my tribe was alive, they had to be aware of the magical seal too and could take another dreadnought to the site of our encounter and start searching for the relic. Isabela had nothing to worry about as long as she wasn't found next to the Tome, so why endanger herself when there was no need?

I was truly annoyed that I couldn't talk to her. She cocked her head and looked at me, like I was something to be wondered about. Perhaps what I couldn't understand was that she was purposely staying close to the qunari people by wanting the Tome. I would be happy if there was a law that banned all the qunari from the lands not controlled by them.

“Your turn, sweetie,” she leaned forward. “How on earth did we end up here? I'm no fool, so don't you dare to lie that you swam all the way through the storm.”

_You are the one who's lying here_ , I thought and frowned. Isabela already knew that I was a mage, so rather than describing what kind of spell I had used, I simply wrote 'magic' on the sand.

“Hah, I knew it,” she snickered. “Hell of a thing you did there, nothing like I've ever seen.”

I still didn't wish to tell her about my past, so I wrote how my skills are not normally taught to other people like me.

“What a shame,” Isabela replied. “Would be quite handy to have more like you.”

The thought of others suffering my fate made me shudder. My real family had hidden me from the Circle, the place for mages, in fear of what might have happened to me there but I was ready to bet that it couldn't have been worse than being a Saarebas. When the qunari abducted me, I had been to young to seriously ponder about the consequences of me being born as a mage.

Isabela's eyes targeted my wounded arm for the first time and she grabbed it faster than I could react. “By the Maker, that looks painful!” She glanced at me. “Can't you heal it?”

The truth was that I had never cast a healing spell in my life, but for her I wrote an explanation that I had no magic left after saving us.

The captain tapped her chin with her index. Then she untied a blue cloth around her waist and used it to bandage my arm. “That should do for now,” she didn't sound cheerful. “We have to get a move on, you will need a proper doctor or a healer.”

She drew a simple map next to my writings. “That ocean is called the Waking Sea,” she gestured at the area on her map and the sea that had almost been our doom. “We sailed to the east, away from Orlais so we are either in Ferelden or Free Marches. We'll know for sure after few hours of walking, I believe we'll find some people soon.”

Ferelden had been my home but I knew that if we were on the north coast, then my hometown Lothering would be far away. My knowledge of the world was limited and it seemed like Isabela had a plan figured out, so I smiled at her and gestured her to lead the way.

“We'll be fine, I swear it,” she winked and scrambled on her feet.

I aided her to keep her balance until she was able to walk on her own. Only then I realized how the wound stung on my arm, but I made every effort to concentrate on following Isabela. I was like a newborn puppy in an enormous new environment, eager to explore and learn but still required guidance. A pirate captain with more exposed skin than cloth wasn't what I had expected to meet first after so many years living among the qunari, but the time to complain had run out when I became free.

This time, I was the one in control. I made my own decisions and I chose how to punish myself for my mistakes.

“Oh and Reneka,” Isabela turned and grinned at me. “Thanks for saving me. Are we even now?”

I nodded and let out an amused laugh.

 


	4. From Hightown to Darktown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

Isabela had been right. We arrived at a small village full of farmers not too long after leaving the ocean behind us. I had hoped that we had ended up on Ferelden soil, but my luck was still against me and we had found ourselves in the Free Marches. One of the farmers told us that we were close to a city called Kirkwall. The name made me frown in suspicion, but I couldn't figure out why it sounded so ominous to me. My grumbling stomach reminded me that I should be more worried about re-energizing myself.

Obviously, Isabela did all the talking and managed to get us some food supplies for the journey from a generous family. We had nothing valuable to pay them with and I got my first important lesson that there was a lot of good in the world after breaking free of the shackles of a Saarebas. We were offered a roof above our heads for the night, but Isabela kindly refused and later said to me that we still needed medical help for our wounds, something we couldn't get from such a tiny settlement.

Hours passed as we walked towards east like the farmer had instructed us. According to him, we would hit the main road before midnight and after that it was impossible to miss the city. Chewing the last piece of my bread, I glanced around and got slightly concerned of how exposed we were, with no woods or buildings to give us cover. I always expected trouble and tried my best to follow Isabela's example of casually taking a step after step, without flexing my muscles and jumping at every sound.

The sun was setting and it was getting dark when we indeed reached a wide road. I stopped Isabela for a moment to write on the ground if she needed to rest, but she just laughed and asked me the same question. I was exhausted and my magic was slowly returning but I didn't fancy losing my whole arm for an infection. Shaking my head, I nodded her to keep going and gave a fragile smile to assure her that I would be fine.

 

#

 

“By Andraste's eyelashes, talk about sinister and unwelcoming,” Isabela said with a silent whistle when we stood at the gates of Kirkwall.

Her description was exactly what I saw. Two massive golden statues guarded the gate with long spears in their hands and an intimidating look on their immobile faces. The doors were still open although stars had filled the sky and the clamor of the city had vanished completely. When I glanced around, I saw groups of commoners being escorted by soldiers and assumed that the gate was to be closed after everyone had been taken inside. We had arrived just in time and evaded spending the night outside at the mercy of the cold wind.

I covered my arm to my best ability to avoid raising any unnecessary suspicions. The wound kept stinging and it was wet, but at least Isabela seemed to be alright. She had pulled the bandana on her forehead again after she had washed it and her hair back at the village.

More statues greeted us as we walked forward and I started to regret entering the city. They were figures of starved slaves, crying of agony and hiding their faces behind their palms. Seeing more of them reminded me why the name of Kirkwall had stirred me earlier and my shock of realization increased when two heavily armored men approached us, a flaming sword branded on their cuircasses. I remembered the answer a Saarebas had given me when I had inquired about the Free Marches before we traveled to Orlais.

A city of slaves and slavers, now occupied by the templars. No different than being leashed by an Arvaarad in a qunari tribe.

“Evening, handsome,” Isabela tilted her head and shot a grin at one of the templars who had shoulder-length hair. “I don't suppose you could point us to the inn?”

“More refugees?” the taller knight next to his comrade sighed. “Why aren't you with the rest of the group? We don't make exceptions with you Fereldans. Everyone needs to wait at the courtyard.”

“Aw, don't be like that,” Isabela purred and swung her hips as she walked closer. “I have a friend here whose sister is waiting for her at the local tavern and promised to help her. Unlike me, she has never been outside Ferelden, you see.”

“Forgive my rudeness, but you two don't seem like the kind to hang around in Hightown,” the man snorted. “I believe you are looking for the Hanged Man, not the place we have for the Orlesian nobles here.”

“Yes, that was the name!” Isabela clicked her fingers. “Wouldn't it be great if we were out of your mind as soon as possible, hm?”

The long-haired templar scratched his head and grunted. “Fine, fine. You can get to the Lowtown through the market. Just be on your way.”

Isabela had a smug smile on her lips and she took my hand to lead me towards our next destination. I glanced at the templars over my shoulder and heard them mumbling how relieved they were that we chose to go to 'that place festered by rats' rather than demand proper accommodations.

Either we managed to slip through every guard patrol on night duty, or we had been ignored, labeled as some street beggars who deserved no attention. My guess however was that Isabela knew exactly where the darkest shadows were located and kept us hidden like mice until we reached an area that clearly divided the the city between the poor and rich. I saw no more grand statues and the buildings became simpler. By the point we had arrived at another gate, the houses were more like shacks and a disgusting smell of alcohol and rotten meat lingered in the air, forcing its way into my nostrils.

All the merchants were at their homes, preparing for a new day of profitable business and I was glad that every human and elf we encountered bared us no mind, clearly more concerned of keeping themselves warm under the pieces of cloth that could barely be called blankets. I couldn't even remember the last time I had slept on a bed, although to me the couch in Isabela's cabin had felt like lying on a cloud.

The pirate captain halted and peeked behind the corner of stairs that led to a tall building with lots of widows and light shimmering through them. At the front was a huge object that looked like a man hung from his ankles. The noises coming from the inside were so loud that I could hear pints being clattered together in a toast.

“I bet this is it,” Isabela smiled victoriously and turned to look at me. “Listen, you wait here while I go and investigate. There's bound to be a healer in a large city like this or a doctor at least.”

I blinked a couple of times before slowly nodding my head.

Isabela took my hands in hers and gave me a serious leer. “I still owe you for saving my life, so promise me that you'll be a good girl and stay here. I hate unpaid debts.”

I couldn't tell if Isabela was worried because of me or her. She wasn't selfish, but the only people I could compare her to were qunari and in my mind everyone was better than a qunari.

To set her at ease, I drew a circle on the soft ground, big enough for me to fit in while standing on my feet. Beside the circle, I wrote my name and added an arrow that pointed at me once I stepped in the space meant for me.

Isabela's eyes shifted from me to the drawing and she started to laugh. When she attempted to quiet herself, it sounded more hilarious and she let out a loud giggle. Only then she fell silent, but kept smirking and breathing hard.

“You are so funny, even without words,” Isabela said and pinched my cheek. “Okay, I'm off now. See you soon.”

I waved to her when she still took a glimpse of me from the door of the inn before stepping inside. The wound on my arm insisted on alerting me about how much time I had before the whole limb would have to come off. Whistling sounds came from the inn as soon as Isabela had entered and when I imagined of the mess that the captain would be ready to cause to tease the drunken men, it made me sneer and forget about the pain.

 

#

 

I waited for about a hour, not moving from the circle I had drawn. The noises had calmed down and fortunately no-one had exited the inn and seen me standing still like an easy prey. That didn't mean that I was safe as the sky grew blacker with clouds of rain conquering it. Even without the full amount of my magic, I could sense if there was a murderous presence nearby which saved me from being ambushed.

I listened closely and could detect footsteps. Four, maybe five strangers lurked in the shadows and weren't most likely aware that I knew about them. I had no purse to be cut nor a belt to carry such a thing, but I got the feeling that the humans or elves near me weren't just common thieves. If I still had red lyrium in my system, it would certainly warn me of the smell of blood.

Isabela had asked me not to move, but I wasn't stupid. Although the city was unfamiliar to me, I could try and lose the thieves and then return to the inn with information about the incident. As long as Isabela didn't find me missing and go search for me while I distracted the murderers, everything would be fine.

When I heard a blade being drawn from its sheath, my legs ordered me to run. I didn't have Isabela's skills of stealth, but during the first years as a qunari prisoner I had become quite good at spotting hiding places. There hadn't been no acceptable ones at the entrance to the so-called Lowtown, so I passed the inn and aimed to get behind it.

My instincts had been right and I didn't have to turn around in order to see a hooded person chasing after me. It was a female and she was shouting commands to her followers. It gave me some time to gather distance between us. I found some stairs near a district that had to be the slums but after I had ran down them, I cursed when I came to an open area. My only choice was to keep dashing forward, but then one of the thieves appeared in front of me, his daggers bared and pointed at the enemy.

I refused to die at the hands of some petty criminals. My hope was that they were afraid of mages and wouldn't pursue me if they knew who I truly was. Before the man could strike, I whisked with my uninjured arm and created a shockwave strong enough to push him few meters away and knocking him prone. I gave the others no time to react and repeated the simple spell, targeting the ones behind me.

While they recovered from the attack, I didn't stay to witness if I had made an impact. There were long stairs next to me, leading further away from the inn and deeper into the city, but it had been the apparent sewer passage at the bottom of the stairs that caught my eye. I rushed to it and didn't think twice. The lid came off easily and I didn't bother to put it back but jumped down, concentrating my regained mana below my body to make my fall a bit softer.

I was surprised that there wasn't dirty water waiting for me when I hit the ground. It was also a miracle that I hadn't fallen on a stone or something even more deadly. Magic had slowed the drop, but my ribs still didn't feel comfortable after taking such a hit in them. Despite the bruises, I was happy that my wounded arm didn't suffer any more damage.

I couldn't hear anything above, which made me presume that the thieves weren't going to follow me all the way down to the sewers. The fact that they had been after me in the first place was enough for me to stay alert and continue to find a place to hide until the situation was over.

There were carved hollow spaces on the wall along the path, but provided no cover. At the moment, I wasn't worried of how far I would walk from the inn and focused on ensuring that I was alive for couple of hours more. I saw some more sewer entrances that could be reached by climbing the ladders, but dared not to go and take a glimpse of where I would end up at.

When I squeezed my wound too hard, it started to bleed again and I had to lean against the wall to fight against the pain. I kept my eyes closed tightly but when I opened them once again, I realized that the wall my forehead was touching was actually a concealed door. It blended in so perfectly that one had to be ridiculously observant to notice it. It didn't have a handle, just a small pressure plate at the top corner.

I glanced around and pushed the plate carefully, expecting to find a storage, bones or something else that someone wished to keep hidden. Instead, when the door slid open, there was a narrow path forward. I trifled with the thought of finding someone's home or a treasure room and decided to find out more about the discovery, thinking that maybe I would stumble upon a gift for Isabela.

I had to walk sideways to clear the pathway and was surprised that it was an underground area like a small room where I had come into. As I moved further in, I saw another door, this time with a handle and clear signs that someone had been there. A pile of blankets in one corner had been spread and probably used as a mattress to sleep on and there were empty sacks scattered around. I found also a bucket full of cold water and traces of food such as remains of apples and chicken bones.

In fact, the whole place looked like a better home than what I had ever had at the tribe. It was relatively warm and there were no critters or rats, although I discovered couple of holes where their nests could have been.

A very blithe giggle behind the door spooked me and I hurried to take position right next to it, ready to take the initiative if I was threatened. The voice that spoke after belonged to a man and the handle rattled as it was being turned. I crouched a little when the door concealed me and glared at a pair of elves who entered. The female one rose on her toes to nibble on the man's long ear and when she released him and took a step back, I charged from the darkness and grabbed the man, pressing him against me with my injured arm. While the elves were stunned, I stretched out my other hand that was surrounded in swirling blue and red energy and showed it at the woman who had been frozen with fear.

“Alright, alright, okay let's calm down, shall we?” the man's trembling hands rose in surrender. “No need for violence my dear. You have me, surely you could show mercy and let the lady go?”

The elf's words made me wince, but I couldn't lose my grip until I was certain that I wasn't going to be stabbed in the back. It hadn't been my intention to use anger to empower my magic like I had been told to do as a Saarebas. My Arvaarad had taunted me with things I hated and desired to get me excited and call forth more power to tear the enemies in pieces.

Too many times had I looked into the eyes of a begging person, asking for mercy. Too many times had I blown up the head of such a person in fear for my own life if I disobeyed.

My body was almost at its limit. Now that I was free, I had to face all the horrors I had been forced to do and take responsibility for them. No longer could I hide behind the excuse of 'the qunari made me do it'. From now own, my decisions were my own and if I chose to abuse others to preserve my freedom, I might as well have worn a collar again.

I gestured the woman to leave and she retreated very slowly. The elf I was holding assured her and I heard her running after she had closed the door behind her. I was embarrassed and felt like a fool.

“Not that I don't appreciate such proximity,” the man coughed, “but you are bleeding, my dear.”

I let go of the elf and gave one frustrated glance at my arm. My spell was canceled and I was like a greasy rag full of holes that had just understood how useless it was to try and wipe the table with do many faults.

“Name's Jethann, by the way,” the elf bowed. “It's always nice to know the identity of the people who might be the last ones you'll interact with.”

I looked at his face for the first time and my eyes widened from wonder and admiration. Jethann had the bluest irises I had ever seen. It was as if the ocean itself had been caged inside and the color was so deep that I could see my reflection. My moment of depression was washed away and I felt oddly relaxed when staring into his eyes. My gaze explored the elf's face and his blond hair with a tint of carrot red. The man reminded me of Isabela because of his beauty and there was the same kind of witty feeling about him.

Jethann folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I'm quite used to such attention, but somehow you make me nervous,” he chuckled and stroke his cheek. “Is there something on my face? Please Maker tell me there isn't.”

I snickered and couldn't help how similar the elf was to Isabela.

“You could enter this conversation by telling me your name at least,” Jethann said.

There was nothing to write on, so I made a simple gesture of shaking my hand across my throat.

“Oh, you're mute?” Jethann asked and I nodded in reponse. “Well that's a pity indeed. I'm sure a pretty lady like yourself would have a lovely voice. There could be some spell that might help you learn how to speak you know. The things mages can do nowadays.”

_Except that I don't have a chance to begin with_ , I wanted to tell him and remained silent.

“Well, if you don't know such a spell, then perhaps you should at least heal that wound,” Jethann pointed at my arm. “It seems to be infected, weeping like that and all.”

We had changed the bandage at the village because I wanted to give Isabela her blue waist scarf back, but the cloth was now wet and part of the cut peeped from underneath. I glanced at the elf and tried to come up with a way to explain that I didn't have the right magic to do the job.

“Or would you like me to take you to a healer?” Jethann suggested. “He doesn't charge you anything and is quite good. I had a wound almost that bad treated by him and it didn't even leave a scar.”

Finding a healer had been our goal, but I had been away for too long already. The thieves had to be gone by now and Isabela must have started looking for me. I hoped that she wouldn't leave Lowtown and nervously kept eying at the path to the secret entrance.

Jethann seemed to note how my gaze wandered and sighed. “You're not seriously considering going back through the sewers? Surely the templars have received the news.”

I looked at him, my lips parting in confusion.

“Oh come on, miss. If the lady you scared away haven't reported you in yet, someone believing her story has. You can't show yourself in the crowded districts, not until the dust settles.”

I clenched my teeth, furious at myself. Not only the elven woman, but the thieves too had seen my abilities and would certainly wish to claim a reward for an escaped mage. It had been ages since I had been called an apostate, but the meaning of that title wasn't something a mage would forget, like I hadn't forgot about what the title of a Saarebas held within. I carried the scar from that for the rest of my life.

Such careless mistakes could have been easily avoided, but I had been hasty and wanted results fast. The patience of humans was just one more lesson for me to learn again and I ought to be glad that I hadn't killed anyone. I gathered my thoughts and reasoned that after my wound was healed, I could try and send a message to Isabela to tell her not to worry. No qunari was there to stop my letters anymore, so I believed that the world wasn't going to end just because we had parted so abruptly. The city wasn't going anywhere like the tribe had moved quite often.

Jethann watched me for a while and rubbed his neck. Then he walked to the door and smiled at me. “Lucky for you, there is another way to reach Darktown and it's full of people like you. Outcast mages, commoners who have been falsely accused of crimes, orphans and so on.”

I glared at the elf and he got my message.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” Jethann quickly said. “Of course I'm not categorizing you. I just wish to help, that's all.”

The corner of my mouth rose in a cunning smirk and I dropped the issue. I held my hand in front of Jethann who inspected it for a few seconds before guessing that he should offer me his. I gently turned his hand to see his palm and wrote the word 'thanks' on it.

“Most intriguing way to communicate, miss,” Jethann laughed and led the way.

 

#

 

The underground hideout was larger than I could have imagined. There were tunnels and passages to every direction possible and at the crossroads there was always an area with humans and elves who were resting on blankets, eating fruits and bread or warming themselves at a small fire. Their faces screamed of despair and they were divided between those who were optimistic of the future and those who had curled up in a corner, sobbing quietly.

I wished to help them. I pitied anyone who was as mistreated as I had been. Maybe Isabela would understand if I stayed for a while after meeting with the healer. She had shown me that it only took a kind heart to aid people. There was no money in my pockets and I couldn't sneak outside to steal food if what Jethann had told me was true.

Suddenly, my hand flew to my pocket and squeezed it. A knot in my stomach untangled when I could feel the lyrium shards. I started to think that maybe lady luck was gradually siding with me. It was as good explanation as any, although the realist in me said that the pocket had been sealed when the rain of the storm had glued the trousers against my legs.

One of my theories about red lyrium was that it had a will of its own and if it wished to stay with me, then so it did, whether I wanted it or not.

Jethann made sure that no-one stopped us when we met even more people. His charismatic smile was enough to dodge every question and just like Isabela, he kept us close to the walls.

We came to a well and stairs that ran to the top. The distance was greater than my fall to the sewers, but Jethann promised to catch me if I slipped and swore not to look up like a gentleman. I hadn't stopped him to inquire about Darktown, but when we finally reached it, I realized the scenery provided me all the answers. It had been clearly used as a mine, with old entrances still visible although they had been blocked with carts and dirt. The whole place would have been totally dark were it not for the lanterns and oil lamps, scattered here and there. The ground was soft and it stained my toes, making me think that perhaps I should have changed my sandals to a pair of boots.

However, it was a relief that I saw no guards or templar knights. The people were dressed simply like I was and the area was ideal for blending in.

Jethann shut the lid to the underground passage and patted dust off his clothes. “You see those lights over there?” he put his hand on my shoulder and pointed at a wooden door not too far away from us. “That's were the clinic is. Don't be shy, just step in and show him your arm, he'll do the rest. The healer is awake as long as those lanterns are lit.”

My face was again mirrored in the elf's sapphire eyes and I saw myself grinning like a little girl. I performed a small curtsey and was about to head to the healer when Jethann yanked the sleeve of my shirt.

“The only thing I ask in return is that you won't tell a soul about me,” he said politely. “You see, I am already employed and my employer wouldn't like me running business of my own. But it's more money and there are quite many who require the...service I can provide but can't come to the streets.”

I had suspected that Jethann was a prostitute, but the fact hadn't made me think any less of him. He was so pretty and was more worried of his appearance than anything else, both physical and social. It was a characteristic I had witnessed in some of the elves and humans of the cities my tribe had traveled to in the past. They had picked the most perfect locations to attract customers and the underground did seem like such a place. I saw no weapons on him, but had noticed a tiny vial in one of the pouches he was carrying. Poison and prostitutes wasn't an uncommon combination.

I put my index against my thumb and moved them across my mouth, like zipping it shut.

“Thank you, dear lady,” Jethann bowed. “Now, I must go before my real shift starts. Should you find yourself in the underground again, come and visit.” He paused and added, “Not necessarily as a customer, pardon my manners. As a friend more like.”

I nodded and waved to him before we went separate ways. Since my escape, I hadn't met many people but I was happy that Isabela and Jethann had been among the first ones. They both had an aura of certainty and safety, mixed with a healthy amount of danger.

Although it was past midnight, several people were up, sitting anywhere where the ground was dry and gnawing on the remains of a yesterday's meal. Some were gathered in a fishy groups, whispering and obviously scheming something. I hurried my steps and swiftly cleared the stairs to the clinic. Rarely had I found myself afraid of humans, but that was going to change quite radically with the new rules of the daily life.

There were two doors on a wooden wall that had been erected to separate the clinic from the district. I couldn't hear anything inside and started to worry that the healer had left and had forgotten about the lights. My only option was to try knocking, but as I proceeded to put my plan in motion, the door was opened with such a speed that I had no time to evade. I got hit and as I fell down, my reflexes ordered my arms to protect the head and touched the ground first. The wound shrieked louder than I did, but I cried out nevertheless and grabbed the injured arm, holding it close to my chest.

“I'm sorry!” the man who had slammed the door on my face dropped on his knees beside me and gently touched my shoulder. “I had no idea that someone was... Oh dear Maker, did I do that?”

His horrified eyes were fixed on my arm and I quickly corrected him, my head shaking from left to right as I gave a negative groan.

“Good thing that you bumped against my door before I left,” the healer said and I accepted his offer to help me stand. “Come on, let me take a look at that.”

I hesitated for a moment, probably because of how eager the stranger was to help me. My hand covered the wound and my eyes fluttered.

“No need to be concerned,” the man said in a low warm voice. “I'm Anders. I can sense that we are the same and would never hurt you.”

I was aware that my magic was strong enough for mages to sense, but back at the tribe the other Saarebas' had always kept a comfortable distance away from me, afraid of my power. To meet another mage who didn't frown or gasp after figuring out who I was was extraordinary, an experience I wouldn't forget.

Although I felt something odd about the healer called Anders, there was no dangerous smell like Isabela and Jethann both had. He radiated of security, despite of a secret burden I could see in his bright eyes.

Above all else, he was the first mage I had made acquaintance with who wasn't leashed by the qunari and I couldn't wait to know more about him.

 


	5. Times of Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

There were two people in the clinic, both sleeping peacefully on beds and covered in thick blankets. I smelled only a hint of fragrance that was some kind of antiseptic or herb. Anders didn't seem like a doctor and there was no great collection of medical equipment. He was a mage and most likely used only his magic to treat the patients. Whatever would reduce the pain on my arm was good enough for me.

The healer gestured me to sit down at a table near the corner and lit two lanterns that hung on the wall beside it. The spot was like its own separated area, away from the sick people. It was quiet and I guessed Anders and his assistants if he had any ate their meals and sat down to rest there. Papers had been scattered on the table, but all I could gather from them with a brief glimpse was lists of ingredients.

Anders pulled another chair for himself and seated himself next to me. “Right then, may I take a look?” he held out his hand and gazed into my eyes.

The man seemed extremely tired and I doubted it was only because of the late hour. A rough stubble on his cheeks wasn't the only reason I thought so. There was a sensation of constant fighting about him, but it wasn't physical like mine had been among the qunari. Yet he was calm and smiling which helped me to relax as well. The fact that he hadn't asked about the details also made me drop my guard. Even as a fellow mage, I couldn't trust Anders to understand why I had resorted to blood magic. It was evil with no exceptions.

I winced when the bandage came off although the wound wasn't as horrid as I had feared. Anders also grimaced a bit and looked like he knew how painful the injury must have been.

“Now stay still, this I need to focus on,” Anders said and put his palm above the cut.

His fingers curled and when his fist opened again, blue glowing light cloaked my wound, shimmering as it healed the flesh and skin. For me, it was one of the most beautiful things I had witnessed in my life. I had always been aware of healing magic and wished to learn it, but the qunari had seen no point in teaching a Saarebas such an art. They wouldn't entrust a mage to cure them, believing that magic was only capable of destroying both allies and enemies. Arvaarads had the leashes which to yank if Saarebas' got too excited and would not dare to let their pets get too close to the members of the tribe. They were proud of their duty to protect the others from mages and would never believe that a Saarebas ever had good intentions.

I stared at Anders' hand as it slowly glided across the injured part of my arm, feeling warm and important. No qunari cared if a mage got hurt. In fact, a Saarebas was among the first ones to enter the battle with a task of killing as many as possible before dying from exhaustion and attacks of provoked enemies.

Sighing, I shook the memories from my head. I had decided to leave my past and would have to stop comparing everything to the qunari in order to do so, despite having no replacement. What mattered was that I had escaped and I was motivated to adjust to a new life.

“What's your name?” Anders suddenly asked as he was finishing up.

I raised my chin and blinked at the healer. My eyes searched for something to write on as I couldn't bend down and write on the ground. I realized how strangely I acted and blushed a bit when nothing in my sights was able to aid me with my problem.

Anders lifted an eyebrow and sneered. “What, a cat got your tongue?”

I froze for a moment and then gave the man the coldest glare ever. Of course he had no idea how cruel his joke had been, but all I could hear in my ears was an insult. The choice that hadn't been mine was being made fun of and despite the attempts to tell my body not to flare up, I fiercely rose to my feet before Anders had erased the scar, breathing heavily and clutching my chest.

“Whoa, easy now!” Anders yelped and remained seated, raising his hands to his sides. “I didn't mean to offend or anything. It was just a common joke, that's all.” He chuckled nervously and looked at me carefully. “I apologize. Are we good?”

_It is not a joke_ , my mind hissed and I tried to calm down. I nodded weakly and Anders was in no hurry to get up after my outburst. His ignorance I could explain, but not the sensation I had received. Just when I had jumped, there had been a different presence in the room, something that was prepared for any sudden attacks. What was even more odd was that it had been very close to Anders, almost like it had actually been him or inside him.

I turned my head, not wishing to meet the man's eyes immediately after such an episode. My thoughts were seeking to form a way to tell Anders the reason for my reaction. The papers were still on the table, but I saw nothing to write with. I could have taken one of the lanterns and put the words on the ground. It would have been amusing to watch, but I wasn't concerned of looking like an idiot if it worked.

“But really, you  _could_ at least tell me your name,” Anders complained with a smirk on his lips. “It's usually one of the few things I ask in return, you know.”

Just like that, the healer had solved the issue by opening his clever mouth again. I couldn't control the anger inside me, but would not allow myself to descend low enough to punch him. Instead, I spun around and marched to him, giving him no time to evade as I grabbed the collar of his shirt. I pulled him close and showed him that there was nothing to joke about by opening my mouth wide.

Anders' face went absolutely pale and he was so still that for a second I worried if I had shocked him too much. I released him and stepped back, uncomfortable of looking at his expression full of pity and sorrow.

“By everything that's holy...” Anders muttered under his breath. “I... I don't know what to say. Why didn't you-”

Another glare from me shut Anders up when I expected him to ask why I didn't tell him earlier. Even he figured how stupid the question would have been and lowered his gaze in shame.

“I'm such an asshole,” Anders rubbed his eyes. “Who did this to you? The templars?”

My only answer was a shake of head. Describing the qunari customs was the last thing I wished to do at that moment. My heart was pounding from rage and embarrassment with nothing to remedy it. No words, no tenderness, nothing that would normally work.

The situation was growing so uneasy and excruciating that I saw no other option but to turn my back at Anders and run away towards the underground passage.

 

#

 

Everyone who were awake stared as I ran past them, glancing around and looking for tunnels that weren't crowded with the outcasts. I kept jumping over sleeping people who lay on the ground, some near the doorways and some all over the ground. There was no concern for thieves, as the mages and beggars in the underground had nothing worth stealing.

My chest hurt and forced me to stop and take a breath. I kept turning my head, afraid that I would see Anders and his clinic. He had been so kind and safe, yet the coward inside me had blamed the healer for intruding and making fun of things he could never understand. I had no right for such thoughts. As a mage, Anders had to be aware of how we were treated in different cultures. It was knowledge all mages knew about to protect themselves and those important to them.

But I had been too selfish to admit that the healer could have comprehended. I had refused to open up like a clamp, disgusted and embarrassed of the spoiled pearl I held within. It wasn't pure and pretty like it could be without the memories of the tribe.

Gritting my teeth, I balled my fists and hit the wall hard. Before the qunari had traveled to Orlais, I had never planned an escape, because it had always been impossible, resulting only in my death or worse. Humane matters such as hurting someone's feelings didn't exist among the qunari warriors. It hadn't been an issue and I had got too accustomed to not interacting with others. It was very strange, but for some reason being a human again in a human environment proved to be a great challenge to me.

I found the path to the secret room I had accessed through the sewers in Lowtown. Part of me wished that it was going to be empty and the other part hoped to meet Jethann again. At least he wasn't a human nor a mage.

Without knocking first, I opened the door and quickly closed it, as silently as I could. I eyed around and saw no-one, which made me exhale from relief and disappointment. I made sure that the area was clear by searching the narrow entrance that led to the sewers and once convinced, I walked to the opposite corner near the piled blankets and slowly slumped down.

My hunger was intolerable and it had been hours since water had touched my lips. The blue color of my sandals was covered under the brown taint of mud and strands of black hair were stuck against my sweaty forehead. My whole body felt dirty and fatigued, but then I looked at my right arm. A light scar was left of my wound that was clean and the skin was soft when I swept my fingers across it. No spell I knew of could produce something so amazing and serene that had the power of stunning me, leaving me completely vulnerable. I embraced the arm like a child hugs a doll, sensing how my pulse was calming down.

I remained in the same position even when the door was opened, wishing that the moment would last even for a fraction of second more. Even without taking a glimpse, I could tell that it was Jethann who had entered. His steps had the same muffled sound and there was no surprised gasp or a scream.

“Good to see you again, dear,” Jethann's voice was bright. “Though I must admit, I didn't expect a meeting so soon.”

I didn't move an inch and my eyes weren't targeted at anything particular. All I listened to was the thumping of my heart.

“Did you see the healer?” the elf continued and approached me. “I was certain that you could spend the night at his clinic, but here you are. Maybe I should be flattered?” he grinned.

I lifted my gaze and reluctantly let go of my arm. As it fell on my lap, I thought about Isabela, the Saarebas' who had been my friends and the smile on Anders' face.

Jethann crouched next to me and tucked a spike of my short hair behind my ear. “Why are you crying, my sweet?”

I hadn't even noticed the tears and couldn't explain if they were from grief, anger or delight. Perhaps all of those emotions had something to do with it.

I looked at the ocean in Jethann's eyes and saw the pitiful image of myself in them. It made me chuckle a little and I leaned against Jethann, hiding my face in his shoulder and letting out a couple of unpredicted sobs.

 

#

 

Weeks passed, changing into months, but the underground was the same.

More mages and other outcasts had flooded into the hideout, with their friends and children. I had never seen as many children in one place before, but was relieved to receive news that most of them had relatives outside the city and were being smuggled to them. Jethann often paid a portion of the prices the smugglers demanded for their services and had told me that there were others in Hightown who followed his example.

His kindness was overwhelming and despite many attempts, he had always refused any payment for letting me stay in his underground room. Not that I had any money to begin with and Jethann had stated that he could never make me pay rent for such a dump. He worked at Kirkwall's brothel for about six hours a day and ran his own business in the underground during the nights when he was free. When I wasn't in his room, I wandered through the underground's safer areas and kept an accurate map in my mind, just in case I got lost. Helping the others made me feel happy and no-one seemed bothered of my clumsy sign language. My condition got more sympathetic gazes from the underground people than I had ever received in my past.

Jethann had also tried contacting Isabela out of my request, but the pirate captain no longer had been at the inn where I last saw her. Some customers had heard Isabela cursing loudly at the night of my disappearance and claimed that she left the city. I could hardly blame her and would have gone back to her if Jethann hadn't been right about the situation in Kirkwall. I overheard many rumors from the hiding mages concerning the increased number of them being made tranquil with no proper reason. Every mage was a prey to the templars on the streets nowadays and I was grateful to Jethann for keeping me hidden.

If I had to choose one fate worse than being shackled by an Arvaarad, it would definitely be the rite of tranquility. At least as a Saarebas, I hadn't been deprived of my emotions and dreams, of my identity which had been the only thing that kept me alive and be wary of the tribe.

During the last month, Jethann had almost been caught working without his employers consent and couldn't be seen in the underground for a while. He had someone deliver me food or some clothes a couple of times a week and I mostly stayed in the room, resting and finding new ways of controlling my magic. I realized that I didn't have to create a fireball to make fire. Most importantly, I could cast the same light Anders' healing spell had had, although it barely had any curative effect. It took another mage to learn magic by simply observing and I needed at least one more demonstration before I could even stop a nosebleed.

Thinking of Anders made me awkward and remorseful. It had been so long since I fled from his clinic with no forgiveness whatsoever. He deserved no such thing. From what I had heard, city guards and templars rarely patrolled Darktown which made me consider the possibility of going to the clinic and finally apologize for my behavior. At night it would be even easier if I remained in the shadows and there weren't many people who could detect me.

The plan started to form in my head and I felt that my chances were quite good. Jethann would never approve, but I couldn't dwell in his underground room forever. It had kept me alive, but after the weeks that had gone by, I figured that I'd rather be free and on the run than caged and safe.

When the most had gone to sleep before the midnight, I finished the remaining food I had saved and glanced at the corridor to the secret door. I had hoped that Isabela would have come to the underground to look for me because that was the place for apostates, but such a location could be unhealthy for those who didn't belong. I didn't want to believe that she wasn't in the city anymore and decided to try going to the inn after visiting Anders.

To ensure that Darktown was empty, I waited for a couple of hours more before leaving. The path Jethann had used when he had taken me to the clinic was still in my memory. By following the same route, I evaded the common areas and the smugglers' posts. I was in no rush and wondered if I was able to make Anders understand my life as a Saarebas. I had never shared the story with other humans before.

I climbed the stairs and peeked through the wooden lid that concealed the underground entrance. When I didn't spot anyone nearby, I quickly pushed myself up and moved the lid back in its place, kicking some sand and mud on top of it.

I walked to the clinic and only after reaching it I noticed that the lanterns weren't lit, implying that Anders wasn't inside. Chewing my lower lip nervously, I tried to look through the tiny gap between the door and the wooden wall, but all I saw was darkness and some black figures of furniture.

“He left about an hour ago,” a voice startled me and I spun around.

A young woman was leaning against a pillar near a collapsed mine entrance, smoking something that reeked of old burning leather. She wore a tunic and a belt made of cloth and her messy hair was simply tied back.

“You're here for the healer guy right?” she tapped the cigarette, its ashes hovered in the air before falling to her feet. “I came here just when he was leaving, looking to get some medicine for a...disease I have.” She scratched her arm until tracks of red appeared on her skin. “Told me to wait for his return, that he had something urgent to take care in the Chantry.”

I felt a chill and curled my cold fingers. Anders was a mage and the templars were in Hightown were I had seen the Chantry when we arrived to Kirkwall. There had to be double patrols during nights when criminals operated and mages might have attempted to flee the city. I couldn't think of a single cause for Anders or any spellcaster to roam in Hightown especially when there were no citizens to witness what a templar might do during his shift.

His safety was not my concern, but I wasn't about to let the man die believing that I hated him. My own conscience wouldn't allow that. My desire to stay hidden was fighting against the idea of risking my neck for a fellow mage, but my gut told me that it was the right course to take. At least it could be considered as a way to pay the healer back.

I picked up a stick outside the clinic and wrote ' _How do I get to Hightown_ ' on the ground. The woman leered at it, tilting her head from one side to another before meeting my eyes again.

“Through the sewers, if you don't fancy being detected by city guards,” she blew a cloud of smoke through her pursed lips. “Use the old mine tunnel just around the corner, near the exit to Lowtown. You can't miss the carved arrows on the underground walls that clearly say 'this way to Hightown'.”

I dashed like a lightning bolt, hearing the woman's surprised shout that wasn't enough to stop me. The streets were alien to me, so running in the sewers suited me just fine. Finding the place the woman had directed me to didn't take long and I didn't halt for a second when I sat to the edge of the entrance and dropped down.

 

#

 

When I dared to take a look outside, I saw the market of Hightown, silent and gloom due to the lack of busy merchants. The Chantry wasn't far if I recalled correctly and climbed the rest of the way to exit the smelly network under the city. The moon was shining like an orb of silver and cast long shadows that helped me to sneak along the walls.

I took a careful look around the corner of a building and was able to see the huge Chantry door in the distance. Just as I had assumed, groups of guards had gathered in the most visible areas and too many templars to my liking stood near the wide stairs that led to my goal. Engaging them was not my wish but I had to get inside undetected. What was waiting for me after that would have to be dealt with later. The shards of lyrium in my pocket clinked quietly when I squeezed them, feeling their warmth and strength that I could use if it came to that.

To teleport me to the double doors, I focused to speak the spell in my mind. I gazed forward and closed my eyes. As my eyelids rose again, I had appeared at the Chantry's entrance. Two templars were talking on a platform way too close to me and I provided them no opportunity to find me by opening one of the doors just enough for me to discretely slip inside. I was utterly pleased that the stories of the Chantry being always unlocked were true.

As soon as I had taken the first step on the polished floor, I heard a loud shout of despair. Without thinking clearly, I ran to the open main hall and petrified upon the sight of at least ten templars upstairs. All my instincts from the time with the qunari begged me to turn back instantly, but then I spotted Anders and some other people I couldn't recognize, fighting against the knights.

As I kept staring, I sensed the presence from the clinic, but it was stronger than ever and filled with rage. It had consumed Anders and his eyes were glowing. The light pushed through his skin, looking like blue scars on his face and hands. It was terrifying and I was reminded of the horrors called abominations. Was Anders about to turn into one?

I spat curses with no words and hurried to flank the templars who had cornered the group. With a quick glance, I saw two men with greatswords, their armor stained with blood and their blades cutting the knights. Behind them was a dwarf with a massive crossbow of unique design. I trusted that they wouldn't use the weapons against me if I made it clear that I was on their side for now.

I don't think the strangers had even noticed me yet due to the meat wall of templars and it gave me the idea of becoming invisible first. I cast the spell and hid behind a column, searching for the strongest looking templar. The tall one commanding the others had to be it and I concentrated. A ball of flaming energy formed on my hand and I threw it in the middle of the enemies. The explosion knocked almost every templar down, only the commander kept his balance but was left disoriented. I focused again and immediately cast another spell that imprisoned the high ranking knight in a crushing cage of spiritual magic. His life essence was being drained and his body was being damaged without wounds. While he couldn't move, I targeted two of the templars that had just recovered from the fireball, shooting a cone of flames that burned the armor on their skins and left them dead on the ground.

“What in the name of Maker is going on?” I heard one of the warriors say.

“Who cares, it's a perfect time to charge!” a deeper voice replied.

I didn't hear Anders saying anything and feared that the obvious demon or some other spirit in him was killing him, erasing his existence bit by bit until only an abomination would be left. He still kept healing the others if they got wounded, but how long before the spells of destruction would be aimed not only the templars but the allies as well?

A crossbow bolt pierced the throat of a templar that was right next to me. No-one could see me and I kept launching spells at the knights, aiding the men with swords to finish the weakened opponents off. When the last remaining templar tried to jump at Anders, I stepped away from the pillar and froze him in midair, watching him hit the floor and shatter in pieces.

Suddenly, I realized that Anders was glaring and the tip of his staff was pointed at me. There was no time to dodge and I received a direct hit of magical energy that staggered me and released the invisibility spell. I bent down, but the attack was followed by a strike against my face. It made me fall and cough few drops of blood, dripping on my shaking fists that supported my weight.

The presence in Anders was very powerful, but I refused to believe that the man was lost. I whipped my head at him, my eyes big and unyielding. The shimmer in his gaze was intimidating, but also friendly somehow. I felt like seeing myself in a mirror: a person who had no choice but to use violence while being aware of the consequences and its injustice.

Finally, the blue glow was fading away and I saw the color of Anders' own eyes. He was pale and confused, his mouth moving in search of words.

“It's...it's you,” he breathed. “Maker it's really you.”

I realized everyone else was looking at me as well, especially one of the men with as black hair as mine. In fact, he seemed like he had seen a ghost. The eyes that targeted me had the same green color of grass as mine and his nose was sharp like mine.

The closer he walked to me, the more he resembled myself. Even his jaw was shaped almost the same way as mine and I got uncomfortable of taking even a glimpse of him anymore, like someone had made a male clone of me.

“What is it, brother?” the other black-haired man asked and I wished to know the answer as well.

The warrior dropped on his knees, still watching me as if I was a rarity witnessed only once in a thousand years. “Reneka,” he blurted.

The way he had said my name caught me off guard, leaving me baffled.

“It can't be...” he continued while I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Brother?” the man with a brighter voice touched my clone's shoudler.

“Carver,” the warrior almost whispered, looking deep into my perplexed eyes, “she's Reneka. Our sister.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the cliffhanger, but I need to finish up some work before writing the next chapter. I aim to start it during the next weekend.


	6. The Lost Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

“Wh-what in Andraste's name did you do, Anders?” a man's voice huffed behind the people in front of me. “The Fade, I...I could feel it in the room, hear the whispers...”

As everyone turned around, my jaw dropped when I spotted the brand of sun on the man's forehead. The battle and meeting people who claimed to be my family had been shocking enough and the tranquil mage only added to my confusion. His eyes weren't empty like I had thought and instead of the normal calmness, the man screamed of tension, fidgeting and glancing around.

“Yes, what was that?” the dwarf said and threw his arms in the air. “What is everything exactly? I hate unfinished stories, someone better start clearing things up.”

I saw Anders' eyes shifting from me at the tranquil over and over again, like he couldn't decide who to encounter first. It was also clear that he was avoiding looking at me directly, his gaze wandering somewhere in my hair or on the wall behind me. I realized that there was still blood on my lips from the impact of his attack and it must have made Anders uneasy.

Before he could say anything, I stood up and walked towards the tranquil. The man who had known my name was about to stop me, but I gave him a serious leer and gestured at the panicked mage, hoping to solve one problem at a time even if I wasn't fully aware of the situation. If he was my brother, he would agree.

Surprisingly, he let go of my wrist and nodded. “You are right. We can talk later.” He paused for a moment and looked at the healer. “What happens now?”

“Nothing,” Anders spat through his clenched teeth, not making eye-contact. “We were too late, there's nothing we can do.”

“You're wrong, Anders!” the tranquil shouted. “You can still help me, before it all vanishes again!”

“I know what you're asking and I can't do that, Karl,” Anders said in a low voice.

“You don't understand. I am already dead. The music, emotions, tears, gone. I'm just a husk and I'd rather die than lose these sensations again!”

Watching the mage awoke the kind of anger and fear I had never felt in my life. I had refused to give up my name and identity as a Saarebas and would certainly choose death over tranquility. I noticed that Anders' fist was shaking, but his face wasn't colorless. He was aware of what needed to be done while his body fought against his mind.

I had suffered from the same conflict, except the roles of the body and mind had been reversed which was probably why I could see the storm inside him.

“You have to, Anders,” the warrior beside me stated. “I wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone.”

Hearing the man's words caused my brow to lift. He had called myself his sister and just the fact that he shared my thoughts made me reconsider that maybe the person who resembled me had been telling the truth.

Anders stared at the floor in silence and took a couple of deep breaths. He even glanced at me, like he was seeking acceptance. My expression couldn't have been more amenable and I hoped Anders understood that it was his responsibility. Otherwise the tranquil would have done it by himself or asked someone else, but his eyes were locked at the healer.

It was the same look I had received from a tortured Saarebas of our tribe two years ago. The serene stare of a man who knew whom to lean on in search for a merciful end that wouldn't result in more indignity and disgrace.

“It's fading fast, please kill me now!” Karl pressed the sides of his head.

Anders unsheathed a dagger that was hidden inside his jacket and took few steps forward. “I'm sorry, Karl,” he placed his hand on the tranquil's shoulder. “Goodbye.”

With one swift stab, Anders struck the dagger in the mage's stomach, hitting the organs in order to give him a quick death. A fragile gasp escaped Karl's mouth and he collapsed in his knees, squeezing the bloodstained robes around the wound before his lifeless body fell on the cold floor.

 

#

 

“You seriously think that no-one's going to miss those dead templars?” Carver said to his brother once we had exited the Chantry.

“The order will just blame the mage that they will find among them, don't worry Junior,” the dwarf sneered.

“Right, because a tranquil killing ten templars is such a common believable thing.”

“Carver, Varric, shut up,” the man walking next to me snapped. “We have more important matters at hand.”

I kept eying at Anders, feeling concerned that he had been so quiet and absent. Every time our gazes happened to meet, he immediately looked away. I knew he regretted not having been able to control whatever inside him had attacked me, but the state of affairs was hardly ideal for sharing life stories.

He was on my right side and on my left were the men who supposedly were my brothers. I remembered a mantra I had spoken aloud to myself for as long as I had been able to form words after my capture. Every day I had knelt in a corner of the Saarebas' sleeping quarters, begging the Maker to let me see my family again. My mother, my father, my brothers. I forgot their names and had no idea how they would look like as adults, which made me be wary. The qunari had imprisoned me for so long that I had given up hope and for the last months while having been collared, I had tried to erase the memory of my family in order to remove the intolerable ache in my heart.

I was being torn in half, trying to figure out who should I confront first. Anders had been my reason for leaving the underground but he didn't seem to be in a talkative mood, not that I blamed him. Nevertheless, my mind wouldn't be at ease until I apologized for my behavior all those months ago, until I verified that I had returned to my family, to my home.

While I was taking a glimpse of the brothers, Anders halted abruptly and I almost bumped into him.

“Thank you for your help, Hawke,” he said. “I need to get back to the clinic, but as soon as you're able, you can come and take the Deep Roads maps.”

_Hawke_ , I winced.

“Yeah, after three pints and at least ten hours of sleep,” the warrior snorted.

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” the healer grinned and turned around to leave.

I wasn't going to let Anders run like I had and after he had taken his first step away from the rest of us, I grabbed his sleeve and forced him to look into my eyes. The sight wasn't pleasant with the obvious pain of losing a friend written all over his face, but it didn't discourage me.

His gaze began to soften after a while and I felt his arm relax under my grip. I took his hand and began to write on his palm, slowly so that he had enough time to comprehend my message.

_I'll visit later, promise_ .

I wasn't expecting as warm smile as Anders gave me. “Looking forward to it,” he replied and waited for me to let go, not attempting to remove my hand.

As I watched his receding back, I couldn't fully understand neither him or myself. Telling Anders that I didn't despise him had become a weighty task for me, like I wouldn't be at peace until I was absolutely assured that he wouldn't be afraid of talking to me. When he had made the offending joke, I sensed laughter that I wanted to let out, but instead allowed my fury to take over, like a qunari who had been called a hornhead by humans.

Anders was hurting and he wasn't good at cloaking it behind a sweet face. Regardless, I was happy that nervous or not, he was going to be there when we would get a chance to start fresh from the beginning. His smile was assurance enough for me to believe that he wasn't going to disappear.

“You know him?” Carver asked me when I joined them.

I nodded, but only slightly.

“So your name is Reneka, if I recall correctly?” the dwarf looked at me curiously. “And because Hawke here called you his sister, I assume you share the same family name.”

_Reneka Hawke_ , I repeated in my mind. Isabela had been the first in ages to call me that, but to have a family member to say it aloud would be a whole different experience.

Carver was definitely younger, with an energetic aura surrounding him and despite his boyish looks, his gaze was very firm. I had witnessed his swordsmanship and was so impressed of his skill that I wouldn't mind fighting right next to his huge blade. The way Carver had handled it made me trust that the sword would never be a threat to me, as long as it was in his hands.

My eyes moved at the second brother and he cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Reneka. I'm still quite speechless of finally having you back with us.” He offered me his hand. “I am your brother Roghart, though you may call be Rogue or Hawke like everyone else does.”

Wondering about how the nickname of rogue didn't seem to suit Roghart at all, I accepted his gesture and instead of shaking his hand, I enclosed it inside my palms. The more he spoke the more I was convinced of the blood bond between us. His voice was strong and lively, coloring words with sharp but friendly tone.

“No need to be shy, girl,” Varric chuckled. “Bianca does the biting, not us.”

The dwarf was pointing at the crossbow on his back as he spoke and I figured that Bianca was the name of his weapon. His humorous attitude made me realize that somehow I already preferred to be joked about my silence rather than mocked and it put a smirk on my lips. I had been insulted only by the ones who knew me as a Saarebas and had no reason to lose my temper like before. Humans, elves or dwarves may say nasty things about my weakness in the future, but only the qunari could truly hurt me. Seeing the difference kindled a gentle flame in me and I felt like congratulating myself.

To answer the puzzled looks given at me, I inhaled calmly and opened my mouth, just enough for them to see what was missing inside. Each of the men had a varying reaction, from pity to horror, and Varric squinted like he sensed how painful it must have been to have one's tongue cut out.

“Reneka, that's-” Roghart started, but I interrupted by waving my hand. I had dealt with the matter horribly with Anders and would be much more satisfied to receive understanding, not compassion. It was already clear that the people in front of me were not about to humiliate me.

“Maker, how do we tell mother?” Carver rubbed his forehead.

Roghart glanced at his brother and then looked at me. “Are you ready to meet mother again?”

The question sounded silly to me who had survived just to stay alive, to have a chance to embrace all my loved ones and have them call me by my real name.

Like with Anders, I took my brother's hand and wrote ' _Yes_ ' on the leather glove.

 

#

 

As we walked through Lowtown, I spotted the inn where Isabela had gone to gather information. The hanging figure at its front made me recall the inn's name and the dwarf who had accompanied us confirmed my memory by saying that Roghart could find him again at the Hanged Man before heading to the noisy building. No matter the hour, it seemed the Hanged Man was always full of clamor.

I still eyed at the dark alleys and moving shadows, prepared for any thieves that had driven me away from the pirate captain. Carver told me to relax so I must have looked quite jumpy. Slowly I began to realize that it wasn't only because of the imaginary murderers that I felt heavy and doubtful. Roghart kept me informed of how many steps away we were from their current home and the closer we got, the more chills ran through my spine. Obviously I wasn't as ready as I had thought and a plan to weasel my way out of meeting my parents crossed my mind. I quickly rejected the idea and curled my fingers, focusing on breathing normally.

“This is it,” Roghart said and stopped next to stairs made of stone. “Up there, behind that door, is our mother.”

My gaze scanned the wooden door with rusty metal reinforcements. Lowtown, as the name suggested, was the place for everyone else who wasn't of a noble caste or a rich merchant. It was still better than the underground of Darktown, although for me anything won against the dirty wet shacks where the qunari had kept their mages.

“Reneka,” Roghart captured my eyes with a questioning look, “would you prefer if we went first and told mother? I'm sure she's still awake, waiting for us like she usually does.”

My older brother reminded me of the Saarebas' I dared to call my comrades. They had been the only ones who acknowledged my feelings and knew the injustice of being forced. When I had escaped, I had been worried that the people of the outside world wouldn't welcome me as one of them. I had witnessed the glares of hatred humans had shot at our tribe and even I had been a target.

Not a single stranger since breaking free had shoved me aside. Isabela, Jethann and Anders had all shown me nothing but kindness and when I looked at my brothers, the bright and strong light in their eyes, I couldn't bring myself to believe that my own parents would refuse me.

I nodded and climbed the stairs, gesturing Roghart to lead the rest of the way. He sought approval from Carver who shrugged, having nothing against the plan.

The door creaked when it was opened and I noticed that it was slightly too big, its bottom scratching the ground and the handle needed a firm yank. I smelled an odor of bad cheese coming from inside and heard an excited bark. Before anyone could warn me, a brown mabari dashed to the door and greeted my brothers, wagging its tiny tail. After thoroughly licking Roghart's face, the mabari turned to me and carefully sniffed every inch of my body, panting happily and wasn't growling at me like I was some intruder. The breed was known for its intelligence and they were aware of their enemies and allies. I didn't know what was it that made the mabari trust me, but it had instantly accepted me.

“What's all this racket?” an irritated voice grunted from one of the rooms and I saw a gray-haired man approaching us. “Can't a man sleep peacefully in his own home?”

“That's the downside of working late, uncle,” Carver sneered. “And we have to take every day and night job to have the money to move out of your house. Isn't that what you told us to do?”

“Yes, but waking me up in the middle of the night isn't part of the deal.”

“Please, stop arguing,” a woman came from the other room. The color of her hair was the same as the annoyed man's, but despite her age, she looked young.

While Roghart had been like an exact clone of myself, the woman and I shared some similar features. The shape of our eyes, the tint of our skin and the curve of our upper lip was the same. Even her fingers seemed as nimble as mine.

She leered at my brothers, scolding them without words until our gazes met. Roghart's shock of seeing me was nothing compared to the expression I saw on the woman's face. Her cheeks went pale and tears welled in the corners of her eyes after only seconds of watching me. She touched her dried trembling lips and breathed so silently that I could barely detect it.

I knew she had to be my mother and from her reaction, I could presume that she recognized me, after at least ten years since my kidnapping. My greatest desire of not having been forgotten had been granted. Even though I had stayed alive for this moment, my body was still, having no clue of how to proceed. My arms wished to embrace the woman and my brothers, but they were pressed against my chest, the right hand squeezing the left one.

“Sweet Andraste,” the woman muttered while crying. “You are her, aren't you? Not a dream, an illusion. Please tell me that you are real.”

Her voice struck me like a knife, pulling me back to the reality and finally giving my body the instructions. I felt a tear rolling down my reddened cheek and my mouth opened to speak the words I had saved for all the past years. All the suffering I had endured had been for this situation. I groaned and was alarmed of my inability to talk, but it didn't stop me from trying again.

My mother closed the gap between up and she cried more with every step taken towards me. “I know I'm right,” she said. “I would never forget my Reneka. Her father's nose and dark hair, the determination in those glimmering orbs.” She reached to brush the hair that covered my ear. “It feels real. It has to be. You must be my Reneka.”

Roghart gave me a little push on my back and it was all I had lacked to throw my arms around mother and hold her close. She hugged me so tightly that I felt her nails through my shirt and heard the racing heart in her chest. My name came from her lips all over again and I couldn't describe the sensation of being drowned in overwhelming joy and relief. Only now could I admit that I had returned home. Now I knew that the two warriors standing beside me were my blood brothers and as I fingered the gray hair of my mother, I remembered the names I had used to call my parents and siblings.

Roghart. Carver. Leandra. Malcolm. My mouth moved as I wordlessly pronounced them.

“Mom,” I uttered as clearly as I ever could without a tongue.

Despite that I had sounded like a badger with a terrible flu, my short message made the woman in my embrace laugh and her tears kept falling on my shoulder.

“Welcome back, Reneka my dear,” she sobbed and landed several kisses on my face. “Welcome home, my sweet girl.”

 


	7. My Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

The idea of being a part of a family was strangely hard to get used to. Mother had almost crushed me in a hug after she saw the true reason for my silence and I had felt oddly light as her fingers had run through my hair, assuring me that she would never love me less no matter what. She and my brothers had sworn to be there for me whenever I would need them and I was given the authority to decide when it was time to reconnect. A Saarebas wasn't pitied but mocked and wouldn't be allowed to take the initiative in anything. It was going to take a while for me to understand that being treated as a human was nothing spectacular anymore.

I felt a bit guilty for sleeping so restlessly during the first night at home. Over the years, I had developed a slight fear of having someone watch me all the time. Both of my brothers had read my thoughts and given up the whole room to provide me privacy. All the words I had saved for my family had been silenced forever and I kept rolling on Roghart's bed, trying to figure out a better way to communicate than writing, nodding or shaking my head. With the qunari, it hadn't been an issue because they were known for their reluctance to have long discussions.

I also couldn't stop thinking about all the people I owed an explanation. Jethann had friends in the underground who had kept him informed of my well-being and I could only imagine his reaction when he had likely been told of my disappearance. Leaving without a message had become a bad habit for me.

My eyes refused to stay closed and I was too eager to see my mother again to let my tired body lie in the bed. As the first rays of the morning sun peeked through the gap below the door, I walked into the living room and spotted Roghart who had just woken up as he was still yawning next to the fireplace, sitting in an armchair and covered in a thick blanket. He rubbed his temple, clearly suffering from a headache due to sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot. He had insisted that I should take his bed and as I watched him groaning and cursing his aching back, I felt embarrassed for not sleeping well.

Mother emerged from the other room with a delicious looking wheel of cheese and saw me standing at the doorway. “Good morning, my sweet,” she smiled kindly and her eyes moved at Roghart. “She must be cold, so get up already and rekindle the fire before we start breakfast.”

“Just a minute, mother,” Roghart grunted, stretching his arms. “I think I'll slump on the floor like a wet rag if I force my body too much.”

“Nonsense. Wrap the blanket around your sister and help her sit down.”

I would have liked to say that it was quite warm actually even without the fire, but when I took a step forward to try and signal my opinion, Roghart scrambled up with great difficulty and approached me, the blanket still on his shoulders before he cloaked me with it.

“Better do as she says, Reneka,” my brother chuckled and leaned closer to whisper. “You have no idea how much she has waited for this day.”

Nodding with understanding, I went to the armchair and carefully sat down, surprised of how soft the seat was. There was so much energy going on and I found myself staring at all the things happening around me. Mother was finishing setting the table and Roghart threw fresh wood into the fireplace after cleaning most of the old ashes first, putting them in a bucket beside him. I didn't see Carver nor the man who had introduced himself as Gamlen, my mother's brother, and assumed that they had woken up early and gone to the town.

Roghart was reaching for the tools to make fire, but I stopped him with a grin. I hoped that my family still remembered what abilities I possessed and saw no harm in demonstrating them in front of only my mother and Roghart. I glanced at the pile of wood, pointed at it with my finger and created a strong flame that soon touched all the wood logs. As the heat began to spread, I leaned back in the chair and let the blanket drop behind me.

“You still have it,” mother gasped. “Your father's talent.”

“I saw her using magic when we met,” Roghart started, but noticed my leering and quickly halted his tongue. Worrying mother was the least of my wishes and I rather kept a secret from her than hurt her with the truth that I had killed templars with magic.

Mother lifted her eyebrow, eying at both of us quite intently and sighed. “You know I could order you to tell the whole story.”

Roghart gave a quirky smirk. “But you won't?” his question was filled with the sound of begging.

“I trust that you will eventually tell me,” mother replied. “Magic is not something one can talk about freely in Kirkwall so I'm sure we will find a better timing.”

I was about to rise on my feet, but mother raised her hand. “No, my girl,” she said. “You stay near the fire. I'll bring you a plate.”

There was nothing I could do or gesture to stop her so I turned the chair to face the table and watched as mother gathered all sorts of treats on my plate: bread with cheese and dried ham, raisins, peas and a sliced apple. For the most women my size, the portion would have been way too big, but after eating whatever scraps the qunari had spared for their mages, I wasn't going to refuse any food ever again.

I grabbed the plate with a hungry look and didn't wait for the others. Thoroughly chewing a piece of bread, it took me a while to realize that I had forgotten proper table manners and shamefully put my food down, evading the gazes Roghart and mother gave me.

My brother laughed and patted me on my head. “Go on ahead,” he winked. “You're with your family, not with a group of pompous Orlesian nobles.”

A giggle escaped my lips and I continued to eat. I attempted to make a gesture that would have told mother how good the food was even with my impaired sense of taste and she was doing her best at guessing the correct meaning of the act. Even without speech, I was having an amusing banter and I slowly began to discover how to repeat certain hand signs that my family always comprehended.

The brightness on mother's face faded away for a moment and she put down the mug in her hands. “Reneka,” she looked at me and then at my brother, “you must have faced horrible things in order to come back to us and deserve to know.”

“Mother, you don't have to, not now,” Roghart intervened.

“I must. She was so brave to reveal what her captors did to her. I can't lie to her about Malcolm. I can't.”

Her voice was at the verge of breaking. Roghart gazed at me but I showed him that there was no need to be concerned. I had known in my heart what mother wished to say. The fact that only she had embraced me last night confirmed the feeling in my gut that had warned me for years. It had prepared me to be ready for losing something in order to gain everything.

There was paper and an ink pen on the table behind mother. Mother saw me eying at them and the way my eyes moved told her what I wanted. She blinked with confusion and gave me a sheet and the pen after dipping it in the ink bottle. I wrote a single word on the paper and gave it back, keeping a calm but serious face.

“ _'When'_ ,” mother read aloud, staring at me with an expression that described her shock of me foreseeing her words. “Oh, my dear girl, you-”

I stood up and walked to her. The plate clattered when I put it down on the table before taking mother's hand. I squeezed it gently and gave her a fragile smile.

Mother wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and cupped my cheek. “I'm so sorry,” she breathed and moved a bit to create space for me to sit next to her on the bench. “I know how hard this must be, even for someone as strong as Malcolm's child.”

My grip softened as a sign that I still wanted to hear about father. I kept looking into mother's beautiful blue irises and stayed relaxed, not displaying too much of the emotions that churned inside me. Of course I couldn't show her the grief I felt for having sensed my father's fate. I had been spooked of how I had flown into a rage with Anders and would not dare to picture myself crying hysterically in front of my family.

There was lots for me to learn as a free woman and understanding that I wasn't going to be kicked in the stomach for shedding tears for another person definitely belonged to the list.

I took the paper and pen and wrote: ' _Please, tell me everything_ '.

 

#

 

I ended up spending the whole day with mother and Gamlen because Roghart asked me to take care of them while he and Carver were gone. During our breakfast, Carver had stormed in just when we were having an honoring moment of silence after mother had told me about father's death. Roghart had given quite a displeased glare at his brother who had brought news of the reward for a missing templar. I was aware that he didn't allow me to accompany him because of the mission involving templars and I respected his wishes.

The house had fallen quiet early in the evening. Gamlen hadn't said a word before taking his leave and I assumed his late activities involved something very personal and secretive which was all the information I needed. After much persuasion, mother had agreed not to stay awake till my brothers returned. I could see her sleeping peacefully when I went to the kitchen to get a drink at night, waiting for the darkness that would conceal me on the streets to Darktown.

Twiddling a tiny shard of red lyrium had a certain calming effect on me every time. It was the source of my extraordinary power but also the factor that had prevented the qunari from killing me. No other Saarebas had been able to handle the substance without going mad. Most were corrupted by even touching it, yet there I was, sitting on Roghart's bed and playing with the poisonous drug. Just by having it between my thumb and index fed me with warm energy that could have been used to enlarge a fireball spell and the devastation resulting from eating it was like wielding the powers of a god.

Several times my Arvaarad had forced me to unleash all the enhanced magic at once. Only when he had witnessed the ripped corpses of both the enemies and comrades had he abandoned such a strategy, labeling it as 'uncontrolled and inefficient'. As much as I hated him, my Arvaarad's order to use only portions of the red lyrium's magic helped me to control the power better.

It also meant that I would be able to slay him without having to grab him and blow myself up.

I wondered how Anders had become possessed by the spirit inside him. It couldn't have been a demon because his mind hadn't been conquered. My plan was to go to his clinic in order to apologize, but I would have been lying if I said that he didn't interest me. The mages I had seen in the underground had mostly discovered their talents only recently and hadn't trained. Anders was the first I would call a Saarebas if I used the qunari dialect. His healing abilities also had stunned me and I wanted to know if it was possible for me to cast such spells.

A knock on the door made me wince and I quickly stuffed the shard back into my pocket. Then my name was whispered and I was shocked of the fact that I hadn't detected the footsteps of my brothers coming home. Blaming Anders and the lyrium shard for distracting me, I turned around and after knocking the wall three times, Roghart stepped inside the room with a satisfied grin.

“See? The code works well,” he laughed. “Just remember to knock twice if you don't want to be bothered, because I'm going to enter if I don't hear anything at all.”

My lips curved and I lifted my legs on the bed, shifting back a little when my brother seated himself next to me. When I had inspected Carver and mother, I had found many traits that we didn't share. Roghart however was always like a male mirror image of myself, no matter how closely I looked for differences. If I had a beard and more muscle, I could disguise myself as him and no-one would know.

“Don't tell mother, but Carver has rented a room at the Hanged Man,” Roghart said in a low voice and sneered. “He's staying there until we can move out of our uncle's house, so you don't have to worry about having to stand his snoring.”

My laugh came out high-pitched which caused Roghart to cover my mouth and shush me. He paused and took a glimpse of the door, like he was ensuring we were alone. “I know it's late, but there's something I have to give to you right now. I would have given it sooner if the job hadn't been so time-consuming and tedious.”

I was smart enough not to inquire about the mission with the templars and gestured him to continue.

Roghart removed the piece of armor guarding his upper body and set it on the floor slowly. I spotted stains of blood on it, figuring the reason why he didn't put it on the bedsheets on which I was going to sleep. Around his neck hung a necklace that swung when he straightened his back again and to my surprise, he took it off and placed it on my palm.

With one glance, I could tell that the stone on the necklace was lyrium. It was small and surrounded with thin black decorations like vines or roots. Only dwarves could normally handle raw lyrium, but as I brushed the surface of the smooth orb, I sensed no strong magic or heat.

“It's lyrium, though I'm sure you already guessed,” Roghart smirked, looking at my curious face. “The jewel was crafted to be harmless so that anyone could wear it.”

My eyes were fixed at my brother, suggesting him to go on.

“It belonged to father,” Roghart said.

The lump in my throat couldn't decide whether to ease from joy or to tighten from hesitation. My fingers curled around the necklace and I tried not to stare at it. Having a part of my father in my hands shook my resolution of letting him go, even though I had been stoic through the whole time my mother had talked about him.

Roghart sat down. “Mother wouldn't want you to hear this, but she was right about saying that you deserve nothing less than the truth. Father died before you came back, which is why I think you should know.” He laced his fingers and leaned forward. “The day you disappeared, father couldn't stop blaming himself. He thought that you had run away because of him being harder on you than on us boys. At one point, he believed that you had become an abomination because he hadn't taught you to control your powers well enough.”

I had no idea where I had lost my tough and robust self. Roghart's words had banished it and all that remained was a small weak girl who cried after her parents while the horned men were carrying her away. My composure was slipping and I felt uncomfortably hot.

Hearing more was going to be like asking someone to keep stabbing me with a dagger, but Roghart was right. I had missed my chance to meet father again and needed to learn everything I could about him, no matter how agonizing.

Roghart waited for me to give a signal to proceed and he inhaled. “Finding you became his most important mission. He was away from home a lot, even for months sometimes. It took him years to discover that the qunari had been responsible for your capture and he spent most of his time trying to negotiate with nobles, other qunari and even the king in order to get you back home. Everywhere he went, he encountered a dead end but still he didn't give up.”

My brother pointed at the necklace. “Then father got the feeling that he was falling seriously ill and realized that his time was nearing. As his final act, he commissioned that necklace from a dwarven merchant he knew and gave it to me at his deathbed.” Roghart put his hand on mine that was holding the gift. “Father told me to pass this to you once we found you. Or once you found us. It's not magical, but he still said that he could sense when the necklace would reach its true owner, which it now has.”

The thought of father watching me holding his last present for me caused the tears I had held back to show. I rubbed my cheeks while clenching the necklace, touching them with the cool lyrium stone. If there was magic stored inside, it was so mild that no mage could sense it. Maybe with the red lyrium, but I told myself that if father had believed in the power of the jewel, so should I.

I was thankful for Roghart not hiding the truth. When it was going to be my turn, I would tell my family about everything that had troubled me as a Saarebas. Father had taken all the blame because of our shared talent of magic and from his actions Roghart had described, I learned that I had to be cautious of not painting all the qunari as monsters just because of my experiences. I was never going to forgive my tribe but they didn't represent the whole race.

“You alright, Reneka?” Roghart asked when I had been crying silently for couple of minutes.

My reddened eyes met his and I snatched him into a close embrace, clutching his shirt and listening to his heartbeat. With the necklace, I felt like my whole family was together again, even if I couldn't see father. When I gazed at the lyrium stone, I could picture a face similar to Roghart's and Carver's. It was all I required to believe that father was with me. I could convey my thoughts to him through the stone and tell him what a great teacher and parent he had been.

My duty was to show father that he had raised a strong woman whose magic wasn't a danger to others.

I released my brother and grinned while putting the necklace on. The string was a bit too long and Roghart gestured me to turn so that he could made a knot on it behind my neck. I shivered when the cold leather of his gloves touched my skin and snickered as he quickly offered an apology.

While he worked on the knot, I remembered the sewer entrance in Lowtown not far from Gamlen's house which I could use to access Darktown without guards noticing me. The safest form of magic had to be healing and for father, I was going to make Anders teach me how to cast it.

 


	8. Acquiring Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

Roghart wanted to clear his head of the troublesome templar mission and headed to the Hanged Man to share a drink with Varric and Carver. He also mentioned a possibility of a card game, but made me swear not to tell mother. I assured him that my lips were sealed before he pinched my cheek and left. Only after he was gone did I curse at myself for not asking him to inquire about Isabela.

I sneaked outside half an hour later and did my best not to wake mother up. The creaking front door made it an interesting challenge and when I had succeeded, I sighed and congratulated myself. The path to the sewer entrance was still fresh in my memory and I was lucky not to encounter a single person on my way. Even the inn was strangely quiet that night and I sensed that something alarming must have happened recently to make the streets so desolate. I hoped that my brothers weren't involved.

The sewers were as smelly and wet as they had been during my first unintentional visit. I located the hidden door to Jethann's underground hideout and was disappointed not to see him there. It seemed as if no-one had been there since I had left. The blankets on which I had slept on were bundled in the same way I had seen them previously and I couldn't notice any new trash or even spilled water near the spot where I had washed myself. I even dropped on my knees to look closely at the footprints, making sure that they were old.

When I walked through the tunnels to Darktown, I didn't see anyone familiar. Everyone was most likely asleep already but I couldn't shake the awful feeling that something had happened to them. I remembered an orphan boy with his brother and bit my lip to stop thinking about such depressing scenarios, replacing the images with their laughing faces. It gave me strength and after slapping myself back to the reality, I hastened my steps.

 

#

 

The lights of Anders' clinic were lit and I saw him at the door, bandaging a girl's arm and talking to a woman who most likely was the child's mother. She was offering a pouch, but Anders shook his hand politely. I was glad to witness that he indeed worked for free and after scanning the surroundings, I moved the wooden lid back to cover the underground entrance and skittered forward.

Anders spotted me as I was climbing the stairs and he blinked like he wasn't expecting me. I waited till he finished treating the girl and approached after the family wished the healer well and walked past me.

“It was Reneka, right?” Anders scratched his hair, as if speaking to me again felt awkward.

I nodded and offered my hand. He looked confused, but shrugged and gave me his hand. He obviously had thought that I was going to shake it, but instead I turned it to see his palm and wrote his name on it.

It took Anders a while before his mouth opened and he chuckled. “Oh, that's right, you-” he halted his words, his eyes displaying hesitation.

I quickly made a gesture of writing on something and Anders instantly realized what I was looking for. He led me inside the clinic and we went to the same area where he had healed my wound couple of days ago. As I sat on one of the chairs, Anders sifted through the documents spread on the table in front of me until he found a clear paper. I had a thankful smile when he handed it to me with an ink pen and began to write.

There had been plenty of time for me to come up with a proper explanation for my behavior. I had wondered how the healer would react which had made me reconsider revealing my past. The unknown burden that was clearly visible on Anders' tired face worried me and I didn't wish to add to it. If I was to judge, I felt that he was the kind of man who would suffer from nightmares because of others. The terrified look he had given me after seeing my cut tongue had stuck in my mind.

Then I had heard the full story about father and his necklace around my neck reminded me of why I had come to the clinic. To gain the skills I sought, I had to be prepared to lose a bit of my private life.

I lifted the pen after writing ' _I owe you an apology_ '. Anders leaned forward to read it and lifted his brow.

“That's my line,” he laughed a little. “I made fun of something very personal and I'm-”

I silenced him by putting my finger on his mouth. My head shook from left to right and I kept my lips tightly pressed together. When I noticed Anders glancing down and directly at me by turns, I withdrew and tried not to blush. Communicating with touch was normal for me, especially if I had to interrupt to warn someone for example, but Anders was different and I couldn't explain why.

I grabbed the pen again and continued my message by writing ' _I shouldn't have got that angry and I'm sorry_ '.

“No harm done, Reneka,” Anders grinned. “I totally understand why you got so offended. I'd be more concerned if you didn't.”

He was right. Ignoring the matter and not hating the ones who mutilated me would have meant that I had accepted it, like any other Saarebas would. My rage had marked the distinction between me and the qunari mages.

As a mage, Anders would likely understand without long background information so I simply wrote ' _I was imprisoned by a qunari tribe for years, at least a decade_ '.

His eyes narrowed and I sensed distress in him. “I had heard about how they treat their mages,” his voice had a hint of disgust. “The fact that you are alive is what's important, although it saddens me to see that someone like yourself had to endure such cruelty.”

I was curious to find out what Anders meant by 'someone like myself', but to drive my thoughts elsewhere I took the ink bottle on the table and filled my pen. My mind stopped to ponder for a moment before I wrote ' _I learned all kinds of magic, but I've never seen spells like yours_ '.

“You mean healing magic?” Anders sounded puzzled and his shock increased when I nodded in all seriousness. “Well, the qunari are violent people and I shouldn't be too surprised. I've read that the qunari mages mostly cast destructive spells.”

' _Yes_ ', I answered him on the paper. ' _I was hoping to learn how to use your magic_ '.

“You are the most spontaneous person I've met,” Anders said with a ring of laughter in his voice. “I've never taught magic to anyone and I wasn't exactly the most popular mage at the Circle. It's just funny that you would ask me, out of all the more suitable teachers.”

Anders clearly wasn't aware of how little I knew of the city and its people, so I replied by writing ' _I don't know anyone else_ '.

My words made Anders speechless. I couldn't tell if I had overstepped my bounds or if his pause was a natural response. The interaction I was having with him had been the longest I had experienced since losing my tongue and I felt oddly comfortable. My eyes had investigated the man's features more than I cared to admit and I payed close attention to his voice, listening to his accent and tone. Adding emotions in speech was something I wasn't capable of anymore and hearing them in Anders' voice brightened me.

His chair squeaked when he slowly stood up, rubbing his chin. “All I'm saying is that I'm not the most ordinary person in Kirkwall,” he muttered and I thought he was more like speaking to himself than to me until his gaze found mine. “I had promised to give certain maps to your brother, so he visited earlier today. I explained what happened at the Chantry and I assume you have a theory as a fellow mage so that I don't have to repeat myself.”

Anders looked like he was afraid and I could only guess the reason. Were I in his shoes, I would be scared of being abandoned because of a secret of mine. I was used to being treated as a lesser creature and fully understood why someone would fear such a thing.

The dark look he shot at me was unpleasant and I had to convince him that what I had witnessed at the Chantry wasn't going to drive me away. My hand moved fast as I wrote ' _I sense a spirit, but it is friendly and I feel safe_ '.

“I want to believe that, I really do,” Anders said, pacing nervously. “It is a spirit of Justice. He's gentle, but sometimes the anger I have towards the templars passes to him and he becomes dangerous. I can't control it and Justice might cause me hurt even those I want to protect.” He glanced at the ground for a second before looking at me again. “I might end up hurting you, just like at the Chantry.”

The anxiety Anders showed filled my chest with awkward happiness. It wasn't the same kind I had received from mother's embrace nor when Jethann and Isabela had taken care of me. They had helped me out of kindness and pity, which hadn't bothered me. For them, I had been just like any other underprivileged homeless girl looking for shelter, whereas Anders was concerned of my safety and wasn't willing to endanger myself even if it meant refusing me.

Had Isabela shared his thoughts, she wouldn't have allowed me on her ship with a tribe of qunari soldiers after her and the stolen Tome of Koslun.

Thinking about the chance that the whole tribe drowned during our escape created quite an evil smirk on my lips and I noticed how Anders was staring at me. To repeal any suspicions of me taking his concern lightly, I smudged a word on one of my messages and replaced it so that the phrase read ' _I don't want anyone else_ '.

Anders leered at it, like he was searching for a mistake, but my gaze was sharp and determined. There was nothing he could do to make me yield and he snorted with amusement.

“Who am I to decline the wish of a person clearly stronger than me?” he sneered.

' _A spirit could never frighten me more than a qunari, so don't worry_ ', my writing told him.

“Justice will be overjoyed to hear that,” Anders said. “You will also have to convince your brothers.”

I tilted my head and gave him a questioning look.

“I was asked to aid your brother in a mission tomorrow night. He expects trouble and said that he could use a fireball or two. It would also be a golden opportunity for you to learn about healing magic. I have no doubt that you can handle yourself in battle, but I can't make your family to believe so too.”

I answered with a smile and wrote ' _Leave them to me_ ' before rising on my feet and taking Anders' hand to thank him. Remarkably, he stirred from my touch and I observed some signs of embarrassment. Instead of letting go and apologizing, I grinned more and shook his hand playfully before turning around and prancing away towards the underground entrance.

 

#

 

“Your smiling face is gathering attention, in case you didn't notice,” Roghart stated.

It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me and I quickly stretched my mouth and my lips formed a thin, calm line. My brother frowned at me, full of suspicion and shrugged when I answered him by blinking my eyes fast.

I hadn't experienced Kirkwall's streets during daylight until now. Roghart wished to shop for a stronger blade for himself and Carver had joined us in search for a smith to repair his armor. We viewed the weapon stands in Lowtown and strolled through Hightown until we reached the market square. During the first time I had passed it with Isabela, it had been late and all the shops had been empty. Seeing the area packed with people caused it to seem like a completely different place.

While they were busy bantering with various merchants, I used the time to admire the city's structure and the life it was bursting. The statues of slaves I had seen when we came to Kirkwall had given me a bad impression and I had learned bits of the city's history from Jethann and the reason why it was called the City of Chains. According to him, mages were now the slaves of Kirkwall and he had said that the place was a good home for anyone who didn't possess something that the templars didn't fancy.

The scents I smelled were nothing like in Lowtown or Darktown. There were piles and buckets of garbage conquered by packs of rats and the ground was hard as stone, not muddy from hundreds of feet trampling on it like at Anders' clinic. I heard music and the singing of birds, not the loud shouting of drunken men that usually came from the taverns near Gamlen's home. The district was too clean and spacious for my tastes and the citizens appeared more private and reserved.

All the nobles lived in Hightown and they weren't ashamed of displaying their status. In their eyes, I must have looked like a sewer rat in my simple short-sleeved shirt and knee-length trousers. I still wore the sandals from Isabela and when I wiggled my toes in the wind while resting on the edge of a fountain, several rich-looking women glared at me like I had offended them somehow.

My legs stopped swinging when Roghart and Carver finished talking to a dark-skinned man and approached me. They didn't seem too satisfied.

“Remind me, brother, why did we agree to help that weasel in the first place?” Roghart ran his palm across his face.

“For profit, fame and because you are too eager to act like a hero,” Carver answered bluntly. “At least his workers are safe. For now.”

Roghart sighed deep. “Are you sure you don't need anything, Reneka?” his head turned at me. “If I'm going to take you with us on a mission, I want you to be prepared.”

My grin was accidentally more cunning that I had intended and I hoped that my brothers didn't perceive it. Persuading Roghart to let me help him on his next job had been unbelievably easy. Carver had been against the idea and had demanded that we should tell mother, but Roghart hadn't listened and figured that he would rather have me with him than let me follow secretly with no-one to protect me. I had written down the type of spells I could cast and must have made him impressed enough to trust my skills.

Carver was still sulking and had given his honest opinion of magic and how I should stay hidden from the templars. His care was sweet, but after living in the underground for months, hiding was the last option for me.

I had heard that Circle mages used a staff to channel their powers and I had seen one leaning against the wall in Anders' clinic too. The Saarebas' were trained not to wield anything that could have been used as a weapon against their masters, so I shook my hand, gesturing that I didn't require any implements.

“Are you sure?” Roghart verified.

The way I blew the air out was quite annoyed and I dug the piece of paper and coal Roghart had given to me before we left Gamlen's house. The words ' _I'm positive that two mages have enough power even without extra toys_ ' appeared on the paper and Roghart looked at them thoroughly.

The corner of his mouth rose. “Oh, that's right, I forgot about your date.”

My jaw dropped and I produced a funny 'ah' sound before gathering myself and pretending to be watching at something in the distance.

“Come on, Reneka,” Roghart laughed. “You think he arranges a date with every pretty girl he meets? He even asked me about you when I went to get some maps from him.”

My elbow rested on my lap and I leaned against my palm, attempting to conceal my red face.

“You out of all people have no right to tease our sister like that,” Carver poked Roghart.

“Whatever do you mean, dear brother?” Roghart smirked.

“Oh please, like no-one sees the way you stare at that busty woman at the Hanged Man. You even asked if she was married before finding out her name.”

“She doesn't seem the type who would like to share her whole life story, so what's wrong with the good old 'act first, ask questions later'?”

“Urgh, that's too much information,” Carver wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “You have fun with your exotic pirate captain if this mission of hers doesn't kill us.”

 _Pirate captain?_ I repeated in my mind while a shiver ran through my spine.

I spun around, startling Roghart with my sudden movement and snatched the paper he had taken to read my previous message. My fingers actually trembled as I wrote ' _Isabela_ ' and showed it to my brother, tension all over my face.

“Yeah, that's her name,” Roghart's voice was slow and uncertain. “You know her?”

The time seemed to freeze around me. After separating from Isabela, I had made myself believe that she wasn't in Kirkwall anymore. She had been so keen on finding the relic that I thought she had gone to the coast and spent her time trying to locate the magically sealed box she had mentioned to me. The city was close to the site where her ship had sunk, but I still couldn't believe that she had stayed at the inn where I last saw her. Why Jethann hadn't told me that the only person I had been seeking had been right under my nose?

At the same time, I felt nauseous and relieved. If I hadn't been a coward, I would have gone to the Hanged Man after shaking off the thieves in Lowtown. My heart thumped like a hammer, but it also brought gentle warmth.

Many things had gone wrong when I was a Saarebas and I had been forced not to consider anyone as a friend in fear of losing them on the next day, leaving me cold and breathless. I was utterly delighted that this time not seeing my friend for a long time didn't mean that I had lost her.

 


	9. Bloody Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare! Sorry for the wait, the cold I caught was amazingly persistent one.

My palms were sweating and I kept wiping them against my legs as we headed to Hightown with my brothers. I was excited to have an opportunity to spend time with Anders and learn the healing arts, but meeting Isabela again hadn't been part of the plan and it was tangling my insides. I wanted to see her, but just like Anders had been afraid of being rejected, I couldn't help but imagine Isabela's reaction to be a negative one.

Roghart had described the pirate captain he had encountered at the Hanged Man and there was no doubt that he meant Isabela. I had given the short version of how I knew her, too distracted and nervous at the time to put the whole story on paper. Isabela didn't know of my past and Roghart hadn't mentioned me, stating that family business wasn't exactly the topic of the conversations they had at the inn. I was relieved, thinking that it was my task to tell Isabela more about myself as a thanks for getting me away from my tribe. She deserved to know how much it had meant to me to have been accepted on the Siren's Call.

Anders waited us at the market and had come prepared. A wooden staff with a tip like curvy branches of a tree was strapped on his back and he had a leather belt with several pouches tied to it. I assumed it was for carrying potions and felt a bit unwell when thinking about the situations where my Arvaarad had made me drink the bitter liquid to quickly replenish my mana. That had been before I got used to the red lyrium that was more powerful than twenty potions together. Without the leash to command me, I would pick the awful-tasting stuff over the poisonous substance anytime, because at least it didn't risk my mental health.

Taking a few steps towards us, Anders waved his hand. “Good to see the whole family together,” he said.

“Excluding one female, but I'd never make my mother fight some thugs,” Roghart smirked. “Their feelings would get hurt for not being any challenge to her.”

Anders' eyes met mine and I smiled quite girlishly. I lifted my hand in a greeting, wiggling my fingers.

“Ready for whatever is waiting for us?” he asked, smiling back at me.

I nodded, but couldn't hide the uneasiness that kept reminding me of the last party member that would join us. I glanced around and rubbed my arms, trying to give my mind something else to think of.

Obviously, Anders saw through me as easily as one would look through a window, but luckily he didn't inquire about it further. Instead, he suggested that we should move on and not let Isabela believe that we had abandoned her.

For a moment, I was worried of not wearing any armor or weapons. Both of my brothers looked like mercenaries, with swords that could slice a man in two. My bared shins were a tempting target for those who would aim to cripple me and even Anders had a coat with long collar to protect his neck. I could never wear anything around my neck after the experience as a Saarebas and preferred not to be encumbered with heavy gear.

My concerns were taken away when I spotted Isabela at a large area near the Chantry yard. She had the same white tunic that exposed more skin than my clothes ever could. The sheathed dagger on her back was the one I had used on myself to cast the teleportation spell with blood magic and the scarf around her waist was as blue as it had been before Isabela had bandaged my wound with it.

As I stared, she noticed me and her expression was impossible to decipher. Her joyful eyes were wide and they gleamed. She had been leaning more on her right leg, but after our gazes met she immediately stood firmly on her both feet, like an eagle that had detected its next prey and was preparing to attack. Isabela however wasn't frowning nor glaring angrily. Her lips were parted and I saw her saying something to herself quietly.

I stopped, unable to move my legs any closer without being certain that the steps wouldn't be a mistake. Anders realized that I wasn't walking beside him and he glimpsed at me over his shoulder.

“Hawke, wait,” he said to Roghart and approached me. “What's wrong, Reneka? You look pale.”

Roghart looked at the pirate captain who paced slowly towards us. “Isabela, is it true that you know my sister already?” he lifted his brow, his voice loud enough for Isabela to hear it.

“Oh you could say that,” she answered with a smug grin and unsheathed one of her daggers.

Fighting Isabela had been the last outcome I had expected from our reunion. Her leer had turned wild and even Anders who was in front of me seemed to get tense. I had no intention of using him as a shield and I couldn't bring myself to believe that Isabela would hurt me. I knew what a qunari soldier might have had in mind if one would come at me with a blade, but nothing in my body alarmed of danger.

I put my hand on Anders' arm and gently pushed him, revealing myself to the pirate captain fully. Carver shifted nervously and Roghart kept looking at me, searching for orders. My eyes were fixed at Isabela and Roghart eventually realized that by ignoring him, I didn't wish him to intervene.

Isabela played with the dagger like it wasn't equipped with a sharp edge meant for cutting throats. Her finger brushed the clean blade and her hips swayed as she reached me, the sound of her boots clattering being almost the same as I had heard on her ship. She raised the weapon between our faces, twisting it so that the moonlight was reflected on it. Her grin grew bigger and she suddenly crouched. With a dumbfound look, I watched as Isabela moved around me, drawing a circle on the ground that enclosed me inside it. The piercing noise of the dagger scratching the smooth ground made me clench my teeth.

Taking one final look at her work, Isabela got up again and put the weapon away. “Now you can demonstrate the purpose of this circle again, because I think I misunderstood you the last time,” she said. “If I were to leave you for a hour, would I find you here or somewhere else a couple of months later?”

My eyes dropped, too embarrassed to face the woman whose hospitality I had repaid by hiding in the underground. The silence was unbearable and I wished that someone would break it. All I could hear was the breathing of the others.

“Knock it off, Isabela,” Roghart sounded more angry than he usually did. “She can't-”

Isabela whipped her head at my brother, shooting a look that could impale him. Her brown hair swung in the slight breeze and I didn't like how her feet were positioned as if ready to swiftly sprint. My fingers groped the air, eager to write an explanation before it was too late.

All of a sudden, I felt Isabela's finger under my chin and it lifted my head to meet her gaze that was shining of satisfaction. “Lesson learned, I hope?” she winked.

My lips withdrew and despite the laughter I sensed forming in my stomach, I tried to remain earnest. The moment was Isabela's and she was worthy of having it entirely to herself in order to make her point. After a while though, I couldn't look at her without smiling and the relief of seeing her playful self relaxed my body. Before I even knew it, I was grabbed into a crushing hug and Isabela's dark tresses tickled my nose.

Her fingers were still curled around my arms when she pulled herself away, eying me from head to toes. “Look at you, you poor thing,” Isabela purred. “Still wearing my sandals and your hair is all overgrown. Unless you'd like to keep it that way.”

“I have to admit, I thought you were about to stab her,” Anders said, pointing at the pair of daggers on Isabela's back.

“Never!” the pirate captain chuckled. “If I were to assassinate someone, don't you think I'd be a bit more discreet?”

“And properly dressed.”

Isabela blinked at me. “Is your new boyfriend always this cranky or is is his way of expressing his feelings for me?”

“Can we please stay focused here?” Roghart sighed and I silently thanked him for interrupting before the red on my cheeks couldn't be remedied. “This is where you were supposed to meet your informant, right?”

The glare Isabela gave my brother was both teasing and irritated. She moved like a preying tiger, with caution and tenacity. “Alright, dear Rogue,” she whispered and ran her fingers on Roghart's chest armor. “I expect to be compensated later for delaying my Reneka-time until the mission is completed.”

“Sure, I'll buy you the finest ale I can find in Kirkwall,” Roghart answered, casually sweeping Isabela's hand off. “Better yet, I'll use Varric's contacts to get you the best alcohol a smuggler can obtain.”

Isabela squinted and I wasn't sure if her grin was evil or content. The mysterious aura she emitted was a perfect lure for any inquisitive person and I felt no pity for Roghart who obviously had picked more complex puzzle than he could solve. Not even I knew of Isabela's true intentions with the qunari relic she had stolen, but she intrigued me because of that suspense. While I couldn't communicate with words anymore, hers were full of hidden messages and I could listen to her voice for hours.

Slowly, she backed away from Roghart, not taking her eyes off him. “You are gravely mistaken if you think a drink will be enough after this,” she said while tilting her head to the right.

When I looked around, I spotted a group of well-equipped people running to us. They definitely didn't seem the friendly kind and I wasn't the only one with such an assumption. Anders smelled of spellpower, ready to be cast against the enemies and Carver had his hand gripping the handle of his sword.

“I will need a whole barrel when I'm done,” Isabela added with a giggle.

 

#

 

It was my second visit to the Chantry and once again I was there to fight. Apparently, Isabela had arranged a duel with a man and the information we had obtained from the mercenaries suggested that he was at the Chantry. I tried to point out the possibility of a large ambush, but Isabela and my brothers didn't seem worried at all. As a Saarebas, I had mostly fought alone or with other mages so planning was important to me. Dying had been my greatest fear and the more my leash had commanded me to face an unknown force ahead of me, the more I had become disoriented and vulnerable.

As I stared the Chantry door in the distance in revulsion, Anders kept glancing at me until he caught my eyes. “Is something wrong?” he asked in a soft voice.

I didn't wish to seem cowardly for being afraid of not knowing what was waiting for us, so I cracked a smile and turned my gaze away.

Anders sighed. “I can't recall all the details whenever Justice takes control, but I do remember witnessing your power,” he said. “You'll be fine and I will teach you how to heal yourself.”

Small gestures couldn't make him understand my hesitation, so I stopped him and wrote what I had to say on the piece of paper I carried with me. I kept eying at the others to ensure that we weren't too far behind and my letters came out messy and hastened.

_I'm not used to this situation_ , I read my message before handing it to Anders. He looked at me with confusion.

“Fighting, you mean?” he inquired.

_Fighting in a group_ , I wrote.  _I don't need to alarm myself of danger, but what about you and everyone else?_

“Ah,” Anders realized the meaning behind my words. “Well, as you saw earlier, your brothers and Isabela are more than capable of taking care of themselves and I'm not new to this either. Hawke trusts our skills and expects us to do the same, simple as that.”

Anders was absolutely right. I had seen the way Isabela's daggers had danced and spilled the blood of her victims with finesse, although it did make me a bit nauseous. I was used to killing, but I always tried to avoid a mess by casting powerful spells that could slay a person instantly, not leave them coughing and gasping for air. As a member of a party, I didn't have to necessarily be the one to finish the enemy off. A well-placed spell could weaken an opponent enough for those in the melee.

I thought about the skirmish we had before coming to the Chantry. Anders had told me to stay near him and not get too close to the mercenaries. When I had fought for the qunari, rolling back and forth on the battleground and dashing in every direction to evade swords hadn't been unusual. A mage was often targeted first and no soldier was willing to waste their time to defend them, leaving us Saarebas' to our fate. Casting spells from afar was an alien concept for me, one I was willing to learn in order to play my part in a team.

“Hey you two,” Roghart called from the closed Chantry door, “less talking and more walking.”

“Oh, Hawke is a poet now,” Isabela grinned. “I think I like that.”

“Am I the only one here more concerned of his skin than what's between my legs?” Carver grunted, leaning closer to the door to listen if there was someone inside.

“Depends on what part of the skin you mean,” Isabela said.

Carver's awkward blushing made me regret for delaying the group and I gestured Anders to hurry up. I showed him another smile as a sign that I understood what he had said to me and would take his advice seriously.

“You know, there is one more thing I could teach you besides healing magic,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. “Something that would help you a great deal. We can discuss about it after we have aided Isabela.”

I sensed an odd shiver so warm what I felt it all over my body, even at the back of my head and behind my ears. It almost caused me to trip and when Anders put his hand against my back to help me keep my balance, I wasn't startled of the touch. Instead, my lips curved up and I shared a chuckle with him before clearing the rest of the steps to the Chantry.

I felt somehow both stupid and happy for behaving in such a manner, especially when it happened only with Anders.

We entered and I was glad that there were people waiting for us in plain sight, not hidden in the shadows. The tall man at the center of them seemed to be the leader and Isabela's target. He didn't move a muscle as we approached and kept his arms folded across his chest. From the corner of my eye, I spotted more mercenaries in the two rooms we passed. Some leaned against the wall in boredom and some had their weapons unsheathed. With a quick poke to Anders' side, I made him aware of the lurking enemies too and heard him whisper a word of thanks.

The woman next to the heavy-armored man stirred when we stood only about ten paces away from them, but her leader raised his hand to halt her and turned to Isabela. “Long time no see, Captain,” he greeted, his words exuding of ridicule. “Did you hit your head in that storm so badly that you forgot the rules of a duel? Although, it's not the only thing you've forgotten, am I right?”

“Look around you, Hayden,” Isabela spat and spread her arms. “Is this army of yours here to watch or was I right to expect that you wouldn't dare to face me alone?”

“I don't give a rat's ass about ethics nor does Castillon,” Hayden growled. “Where is the relic? We both know that the box wasn't destroyed in the attack.”

“Sorry, I probably lost it.”

“Uh-huh. Like you _lost_ the previous cargo as well.”

Isabela took a step forward and her expression was stern. The glow that had assured me of her good personality wrapped her and I wasn't surprised of feeling the same as she did after Hayden's insults. I considered her as a friend, like the Saarebas' of my tribe. For me, hurting people for a friend was justified.

“Someone care to clarify?” Roghart queried. “I thought we were here to back you up in case this slimy bastard plays tricks. What's this all about some relic and attack?”

Hayden sneered, like he had found a weakness he could use in his favor. “Another poor soul that has made the mistake of trusting you, Isabela?” he laughed and looked at my brother. “This wench turned on her former employer, got his ship destroyed and stole a priceless item that belongs to him. Sooner or later, she's going to bring the same misery upon you.”

My nose wrinkled from the man's foul speech. My body moved before I could command it otherwise, but fortunately Isabela's arm blocked my path. As I leered at her, puzzled of her intent, she winked at me and I noticed how her foot shifted slowly, like she was putting more weight to it.

A memory of my Arvaarad assuming the same posture when preparing for a preemptive strike flashed in my mind. It cleared my thoughts and I focused on being ready to act.

Isabela smirked at Hayden. “You got some details wrong there,” she said. “Castillon is not my employer, the Siren's Call wasn't his ship and the item does not belong to him.”

Her stance chanced a bit and she kept Hayden focused at her. “But there's one part in that story that you got more wrong than the others.”

Before my eyes could register it, Isabela's hand flew to grab one of her blades and she threw it. The dagger spun in the air and landed perfectly in its target. The woman beside Hayden shrieked briefly when her eye got pierced, blood splattering on the leader's armor and leaving a trail on the floor as the lifeless body fell. Hayden displayed horror and rage but all Isabela did was to continue smirking.

“It is _you_ on whom I'm going to bring misery upon,” she stated.

“Kill them!” Hayden screamed. “Kill all of them!”

I dashed forward with a spell prepared in my mind and launched it at a row of mercenaries near Isabela. With one swipe, my magic froze all five of them into icy statues and Carver took the opportunity to knock two of them down. Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed more than shocked when they shattered into bits. I realized that a normal version of the spell I had usually created an icy sell around the opponent and didn't deep freeze them.

For a moment, I was certain that Carver looked at me like I was an abomination. My eyes widened when another mercenary attempted to backstab my brother and my reaction made him turn around and dodge the incoming blow.

“Reneka, get behind me!” Roghart yelled and he pulled me out of the harm's way, taking my place just in time to parry Hayden's daggers.

I spotted Anders and began to take steps backwards to reach him, not planning to expose my back at the enemies. Hayden ordered a man to stop me, but I created a magical projectile of stone and shot it at the soldier, hearing a loud thump as it hit his stomach and caused him to collapse and squirm in pain.

Suddenly, I yelped when Hayden confused Roghart and used the moment to strike Isabela who was too concentrated on deflecting blows. The pirate captain cursed when she ducked too late and Hayden's blade cut her arm. I saw her bleed and wanted to strangle Hayden by myself. Before my legs could act faster than my common sense, Anders put his hand on my shoulder and leaned closer.

“Watch,” he said and blue energy started to gather on his palm.

Isabela's wounds were closed so quickly that her clothes remained unstained. I dropped my guard just to observe Anders' healing magic, how he used the staff as a focusing implement and targeted Isabela with it. The spell was a spectacle straight from my dreams. It was meant to create, not to destroy and such a simple difference almost made me teary. It reminded me of the time when I had played with tiny flames, pretending that they were fairies, but in the end those fairies had been used to kill people. Any protective spell I knew was nothing compared to the power I had to kill my enemies and for years I had sought for someone to show me proof of magic that couldn't be used to spill blood.

Denying that I wasn't stricken by the healer's spells would be the same as lying about it. I had only seen Anders using other magic when possessed by the spirit of Justice and it had leaked of rage. As I watched him knocking enemies down one by one with his own strength, it made me feel both jealous and amazed. He controlled mana like it was part of him, not a curse that branded him as a tool for others to use.

The sound of clattering boots behind me made both of us spin around. More of Hayden's men had sneaked inside the Chantry, charging towards me and Anders. There were two archers among them and Anders was busy maintaining a shield in front of us to block the arrows.

The situation brought to light the problem I had told Anders about. I had no time to explain my plan to him in writing, but I still needed to make him understand what I was going to do. Melee wasn't unfamiliar to me and the closer I was to the opponent, the more damage I did.

As the enemies advanced on us, I realized that time was running out. With nothing else to go on, I glanced at Anders and once he looked at me, I winked like Isabela had done.

He was left quite puzzled, but it had to be enough. I circled the magical shield and evoked two spheres of pure lightning, holding them above my palms until they were bright and large. The enemies halted at the dangerous sight and the archers pointed their arrows at me. They were too slow for my reflexes and after evading their shots, I finished the spell. Bolts of lightning darted from the spheres, striking every target between me and the Chantry door. I smelled burning flesh and leather and the weakest ones died from the high current that stopped their hearts and tore their insides apart.

When I released the spell, only two men were standing and even they were stunned from the attack. With no-one to stop me with a blade, I ran forward and eliminated the men left alive with a blast of flame, sustaining it until their corpses slumped on the floor.

I breathed heavily a couple of times and hurried back to Anders. I couldn't lose my concentration to wonder whether the shock on his face was a good or bad sign. My fingers twitched a bit after using such an amount of mana, but my mind was still strong and I wasn't fatigued.

Roghart thrust his sword through the last mercenary of Hayden's group and Hayden himself could barely stand anymore. His right leg was useless and two deep stab wounds on his back were streaming of blood. He glared at Isabela with empty eyes, trying to utter his final words in vain. As I sensed the battle to be over, my body relaxed and Isabela swung her arm to slit the man's throat, taking a step to the side when Hayden fell on his knees while desperately groping his neck. The pirate captain pushed the body with her boot and carefully walked over it.

She sheathed her weapons and tossed her hair over the shoulder. “What a fun that was,” she giggled and sneered at Roghart. “Left me quite thirsty.”

Roghart frowned. “You have some explaining to do before I'll even consider keeping our deal.”

“Aw, dear Rogue is pissed at me,” Isabela smacked her lips. “What a better way to share a life story than get drunk at the same time, don't you think?”

 

#

 

I felt like it had been hours since we came to Hightown, but it was still dark outside when we exited the Chantry. The streets were quiet and no birds had started singing yet. The wind had grown stronger and the night was cold, causing my skin to tingle.

Unexpectedly, Anders covered me with his jacket and I squeezed it before even realizing that it was his. When I met his eyes, my mouth opened in perplexity and I gave him a clumsy smile.

“You can borrow it for now,” Anders grinned, “but don't think that I'll let you wear it to the Hanged Man in case you're going there with your brothers. I like my clothes puke-less. In fact, the stench alone there is enough to contaminate it.”

I chuckled and guessed that Anders was just trying to cheer me up after I had killed so many. Carver hadn't looked me in the eye since leaving the Chantry, but he was my brother and I could deal with him. If Anders had decided to treat me differently because of my strength, I wouldn't have felt the kind of relief I did. His presence had become special for me and I knew my visits to his clinic wouldn't end anytime soon.

Isabela was glancing at the moon on the platform near us. I gestured to Anders that I wished to have a moment with her.

“Sure, go ahead,” he said and pointed at my brothers who were descending the Chantry stairs. “I'll wait with Hawke and walk to Lowtown with you once you're ready to go.”

I took Anders' hand and brushed it with my thumb, smirking like Isabela before trotting to the pirate captain. She was stretching her limbs and yawning when I reached her. The look on her face was curious and her eyes seemed to scan me, like she was picking up every detail possible.

Then, all of a sudden, her expression changed and she looked awfully wily. “So,” she said in a high-pitched voice, “what else does he share with you besides his clothes?”

I wasn't easily embarrassed, but Isabela's words burrowed into my ears right when my mind was full of warm and kind thoughts of the owner of the jacket. As my cheeks blushed, I attempted to ignore it and wore the most blank face I ever could in order to do so.

She burst into a sweet laugh and I laughed with her, although mine was more unnatural than anyone could produce. I distracted both of us by taking the paper and coal pen out of my pocket. Isabela stared as I wrote and after the first strokes, she put her hand on mine and my fingers froze.

“I know that you have questions, Reneka,” she said. “You want to know what I've been doing these past months, right?”

I replied with a nod.

She sighed noisily and put her hands on her hips. “After you disappeared, I left Kirkwall to find any surviving members of my crew,” she started. “And the relic Hayden mentioned. It is vital that I locate it, but I cannot say more about it. The clues led me back here. What luck that you were still in the city, after all this time.”

It didn't bother me that Isabela didn't wish to tell the whole truth, but I sensed that the reason she had stolen the relic couldn't have been a light one. No sane person would risk angering the entire qunari race if something bigger wasn't at stake.

No matter what, I had made up my mind. Either Roghart would tell about my past after too many pints or I would,with a clear head.

The space on my paper was limited, so I just wrote  _Tome of Koslun_ and showed it to Isabela. Her immediate reaction was to hide the message and quickly turn me around, ensuring that the others didn't see our faces.

“Andraste's tits, how do you know?” she whispered, her teeth clenched and distress in her eyes.

Isabela was concerned and agitated, which made me hastily scribble that I was captured by the qunari and knew little about their culture. She looked at me and I revealed my missing tongue. Her hand covered her mouth and she shifted restlessly.

“And here I thought that you were mute, but this...” Isabela swallowed and for the first time I witnessed her completely speechless.

It wasn't the pirate captain I was used to, so I broke the silence by writing  _At least your secret is safe with me_ .

The words made Isabela snicker and she made every effort not to. “Maker, that's cruel especially from you. I'm never going to use the phrase 'my lips are sealed' again.”

_I mean it_ , I continued the message.

“I know, I know,” Isabela said. “Thank you. Not even Hawke knows about the qunari attack and I'd like to keep it that way. This is my mess and I must clear it by myself.”

I was the wrong person to judge Isabela's behavior of building a wall between her and the others. My duty as a friend was to trust her actions. I believed that this Castillon she spoke about had to be powerful and dangerous enough for her to take such a gamble with the qunari. He had to be the one keeping her on her toes.

I had no intention of manipulating her to give up on her search. There was one clean corner left on my paper and I used the smallest letters possible to write,  _We are here when you need us_ .

A confident smile made Isabela's lips arc up. “I'll remember that,” she said and gave me a pat on my back. “Come on, I would love to hear more about you if you don't mind telling me. Over the drink Hawke promised me, that is.”

Although I figured that she wasn't going to do the same for me, I accepted her offer without a complaint.

 


	10. Slaves of Lyrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!

I could have lived on without experiencing the Hanged Man.

We didn't have to remain in the main hall at least. Varric had the largest room in the inn and the table he had there was spacious enough for all of us. The odor of ale and smoke however couldn't be avoided and the song the drunk people were trying to sing in the hall hurt my ears. It was loud and terribly out of tune. I was also a bit uneasy due to a skinny, bearded man that kept walking back and forth in the corridors while talking to himself. Nevertheless, I had no choice but to join Isabela in order to tell her the whole story of my disappearance.

She was very understanding, but by the point it was my turn to seek some answers, she was too drunk to make any sense. Her knowledge of the qunari was still a mystery to me and no matter how many questions I wrote on a new piece of paper, she refused to shed any light on her past. All I really knew about Isabela was that she was a pirate captain who had stolen one of the most treasured artifacts of the qunari race. Despite her carefree and slightly reckless attitude, I couldn't bring myself to dislike her. The fact that I wasn't the only one with such thoughts reinforced my opinion of her, even though Roghart had his own obvious reason for trusting Isabela.

What concerned me more was not that she held tight on her secrets, but the qunari who most likely were still looking for her. I had finally discovered my family and another mage who wasn't a Saarebas nor an enemy and I could easily lose them all if the tribe tracked Isabela to Kirkwall. I could never imagine myself in the same city as my Arvaarad ever again.

The musty air was causing my head ache and I made my last attempt to get the pirate captain give me a serious reply by writing _You do realize we are not safe yet, right?_ I read the message while squinting my eyes and handed it to Isabela, leering at her.

She scratched her rose-colored cheeks and slowly sipped her beer, eying the paper like the words were too difficult to comprehend. Her lips curved and she leaned back, relaxing her right leg on top of the left one.

“Sweetie, you have nothing to worry about,” she said. “I'll keep you safe and so does your handsome brother. And the dwarf. And your someone-pissed-in-my-tea brother. And your boyfriend. Especially him. He'll be more than happy to zap some horn heads for you, I'm sure.”

My sigh expressed more frustration than I could have ever done with speech. Plans for the future in case of trouble clearly had to be done later, so I stood up and prepared to leave. I had explained myself to Isabela and could only hope that I would learn more about her in time.

“You're leaving?” Roghart blinked at me and I nodded back.

“Aw, the story was getting so good!” Varric said. “Surely you could share your point of view of the previous epic battle at the Chantry before you go!”

I gave Varric a long, blank look and tapped my mouth with my index in a very allusive manner.

The dwarf coughed awkwardly. “Right, shit I'm sorry, my mistake.” He paused and looked at me, a hopeful glint in his eye. “Although, I have some extra paper and a good pen right here...”

Varric made me smile, but I still had to refuse. Roghart excused himself and walked me to the front door, ensuring that I wouldn't step on any suspicious puddles on the floor.

“Do you want me to escort you?” he asked as I put my hand on the door handle.

If a gaze could be translated into words, mine said that Gamlen's house was literally around the corner and I'd be the unluckiest person in the whole world to encounter any problems. Strangely enough, Roghart seemed to understand what I meant by lifting my brow and he chuckled.

“I'll see you at home,” he said, patting my shoulder. “And Reneka? Good job today.”

My grin was quite proud and I would have hugged my brother if we weren't surrounded by noisy men who had their judgment clouded with alcohol. I didn't want the city to spread odd rumors about Roghart.

 

#

 

Breathing fresh air after getting out of the inn felt almost as rewarding as removing the collar I had worn as a Saarebas. I didn't have Anders' jacket anymore, but its warmth was still all over me. Had he not told me that he needed a couple of hours of sleep, I would have scurried to the clinic instead of home. He had something else to teach me besides healing arts and I wondered if it was some other magic or a skill mages not imprisoned by the qunari possessed.

It was late, but the adrenaline from the battle kept me awake. I was used to staying up at night and preferred to sleep during the day, mainly because I hadn't wished to encounter the qunari soldiers at my tribe. The idea of changing that was intriguing, although the occasional night missions and the visits to Anders' clinic made it hard to happen. I didn't want to be selfish by meeting Anders only after the sun had set, but it was more comfortable for me. Plus mother didn't approve me wandering around alone with an army of templars patrolling the streets and they weren't an issue at night.

I glanced at the spot where I had waited for Isabela and didn't see the circle I had drawn on the ground anymore. I took a few steps forward, smirking to myself when the place reminded me of what an adventure my life had been ever since my escape. It was still a bit hard to believe how many kind people I had met in such a short time, how diverse my experiences had been in terms of consequences and emotions involved.

As I turned to continue my way to Gamlen's house, my attention was caught by a well-dressed dwarf at one of the merchants' stands. I only saw his back and figured that he was searching for something. His hands kept rubbing his black thick hair and when I got closer to get a better glimpse, I saw barrels behind him, some closed and some opened. His behavior indicated of panic which made me even more curious.

Suddenly, he spun around and yelped, spooking me more than I had spooked him. “Maker's mercy!” he said in a low voice while steadying his breath. “Is sneaking behind people a common habit of yours?”

I shook my head, not certain of how to communicate with the dwarf so that he wouldn't be scared of me.

“Wait,” he raised an eyebrow, “are you the one who he sent?”

The dwarf had me totally lost and I struggled to come up with a reply. I fumbled with the writing tools in my pocket and once I managed to take them out, my gaze shifted between the paper and the man.

“Ah, of course!” the dwarf hit his palm with his fist. “You will need a map, of course! Here, let me.”

I had no chance to retreat when the dwarf quickly snatched the paper from me and dug a fancy pen from the pouch on his belt. I narrowed my eyes, but the stranger was focused on drawing and paid no mind to my glare. He hummed a cheerful tune and seemed very happy with the finished product. As I inspected the map, I noticed that he had named it 'Anso's Map'. My finger landed on the name and the dwarf looked stunned.

“Maker, pardon my manners!” he apologized. “Anso is my name. And no, you do not have to reveal yours. The job is simple and the employer wished to keep all information limited...if that's okay with you, dear lady.”

There was nothing I could do to convince the dwarf that he had mistaken me for someone else. I shrugged and decided to at least listen to what he had to say.

“Silent type, eh?” Anso laughed, but cleared his throat as soon as he realized that I wasn't laughing with him. “It's an easy task. The merchandise I...well, lost needs to be retrieved. There shouldn't be any problems, although the stuff is sadly illegal. It's my fault for getting mixed up in this business, but I would pay you good coin for doing this for me.”

A voice in my head warned me that the job couldn't have been so simple. I wasn't afraid of an ambush, but the merchandise. When I put two and two together, I reckoned that it was lyrium as dwarves were the only ones who could process it. Also, Anso seemed like he had dealt with the substance for far too long. His eyes were unnaturally bright blue and the way he acted wasn't that of a completely sane person. Although I hadn't met many of his kind in my life, none had been as fidgety and bustling as Anso was.

Lyrium couldn't harm me, but I wouldn't be the only one receiving unwanted attention for such work. I had a family now and the guards and the templars wouldn't let Roghart out of their sight if his sister was caught in the presence of a smuggler.

On the other hand, I could make the whole issue go away by making sure Anso would leave the city. Without him, no-one could prove that I had even talked to him.

I wrote _If I do this, you will take your business elsewhere_ on the paper and showed it to the dwarf. He gave me a puzzled look, but didn't proceed to ask about my silence.

“Yes, of course!” Anso's head moved up and down. “Trust me, this has been a wake-up call for me. Collect the goods and I'll leave Kirkwall.”

I replied with a satisfied smile and hurried to the location on the map. My plan was to be swift before my gut could tell me to expect trouble or before my brothers arrived home only to find my bed empty.

 

#

 

Anso had directed me to an old warehouse in the elven alienage. I had only heard about the area and the poor treatment elves tended to receive. The alienage was desolate at night, with no sounds and any particular scents. The tight-built houses were like stacked apartments with small windows, smoke pipes and main doors leading to the street.

There was a source of light though and I stood in awe when watching the huge tree in the center of the area, almost glowing due to its mighty appearance. I had read about the two classes of elves and remembered the history of the _vhenadahl_ , the symbol of the city elves. A ribbon of paper flags hung from its lower branches and I guessed the children of the alienage had made it. It was colorful and sweetly uneven. Leaves covered the massive visible roots of the tree and I could only estimate its age. It irked me how little I knew about the elven culture, so after politely bowing, I walked away to the building where Anso's merchandise was supposed to be.

The door was unlocked and once I stepped inside the warehouse, it was uncomfortably empty. For a while, I had actually believed that there was nothing fishy about the task while gazing at the peaceful elven tree. There were no containers or furniture and the dust in the corners told me that the house was rarely used. It was a perfect place to hide illegal products like lyrium, but everything seemed to go way too smoothy.

I sneaked into the next room and spotted a chest near a pile of spread straws. As I looked closer at the floor, I saw footprints. Although they belonged only to one person, I kept my guard up and steadily approached the chest. My fingers wiggled and I was ready to make myself invisible if someone were to surprise me. To make sure that there were no traps, I created an impact of air that pushed the chest against the wall.

No sounds came from inside it and it made me frown in confusion. When I opened it after waiting for a moment, my jaw dropped. There was absolutely nothing in the chest. I lifted and shook it, hoping to hear some rattling or anything, but I was left disappointed.

My teeth gritted and I cursed in my mind. My stupidity made me sick and I felt my spirit weakening. I had been too willing to help to stop and think sensibly. I had met too many kind and dependable people to filter the shady ones out. Had the qunari caused me to be this bad at socializing and judging the character of a stranger?

I ran to the door and peeked through the gap near the handle. As I expected, a large band of armed people waited outside, all wearing evil bloodthirsty looks on their faces. The location of the warehouse was convenient. If the elves were so disrespected and the alienage loathed, the guards certainly wouldn't be an exception. I couldn't trust them to come to my aid. The shadows of the night were my only hiding places and I couldn't flee.

My only choice was to fight and hope for the best situation where I could defeat all the enemies or Roghart and the others heard the clamor I was going to make to get out of the stalemate.

With a careful and slow movement, my hand picked up a shard of red lyrium from my pocket. If I was going to solve the problem quickly, I had to play all my cards.

As the footsteps outside got nervously louder, I swallowed the lyrium and knelt down. My eyelids were about to close, but the power that filled my veins forced them open and I felt like staring directly at the sun, my vision all white. The substance quickly merged with my own mana and once the initial pain was gone, my body was warm and aroused.

My heart pounded and I got back on my feet, breathing calmly and glaring at the door. To distract the enemies further, I decided to disguise myself. I put my hand in front of my face and moved it like I was wiping with a cloth. The spell I cast concealed my features in a dark black shroud, as if a piece of the night sky was stuck on my face and hair. Such anonymity could save my family from any accusations too.

I prepared an enlarged, enhanced type of a fireball and yanked the door open, hiding behind it at first to confuse the opponents. I heard murmurs of questions and a woman's voice that ordered the others to keep quiet. When she commanded her men to check the area, I saw my chance.

Her back was turned at me when I revealed myself and launched the fireball. It exploded in the middle of the group, knocking everyone in the way prone and instantly burning more than five soldiers to death. I had no intention of waiting for the enemies to gather themselves and dashed forward. Both of my hands were surrounded in swirling ice magic and I swung my arms to cast two cones of frost, freezing men who still were too shocked of the surprise attack. Without Carver there to judge me, I hardened my fists until they were like balls of stone and smashed the heads of three ice statues.

“Flank her, don't let her use her hands!” the woman screamed and charged at me.

I smirked, just to insult her panic, and teleported myself. I appeared behind the _vhenadahl_ tree and had plenty of time to cast another spell to damage as many targets as possible at once. When the enemies noticed me, it was too late for them. I saw the horror in their eyes as the blue ominous ring of spiritual magic below them grew in size and became brighter. Few managed to escape before I could activate the spell, but those unfortunate enough to be caught inside it were engulfed by a pillar of force that caused them to bleed from their ears, noses and mouths. The longer I sustained the spell, the more powerful it got, breaking bones and ripping flesh.

A stinging pain in my chest made me dispel the pillar. I concentrated and realized that there was a mage among the mercenaries and he was trying to drain my energy. A fatigued body and red lyrium was the worst combination ever, so he became my number one target.

The enemies who had almost reached me were too close and the commanding female was aiming at me with a bow. To everyone's surprise, I sprinted towards them, only to blast them with a stunning magic. The distracted men blocked the leader's sight, which provided me enough time to run to the mage.

He made the mistake of casting a protective barrier around himself. It meant that he couldn't move a muscle while keeping it up. I had thought that the mage had figured such a trick wouldn't be able to stop me, but couldn't blame him for never facing a Saarebas drugged with red lyrium before.

I created a sphere of lightning that crackled and bounced violently. When I neared the mage, I could see beads of sweat on his forehead and his eyes widened as my spell gained strength and the lightning bolts licked the barrier. He hopelessly attempted to reinforce his spell, but I penetrated it as easily as one would walk through a running stream of water. My spell tore the barrier apart and not even a gasp escaped the mages lips before the sphere of lightning struck him and gave him a deadly dose of voltage. His corpse collapsed on the ground, floundering from the after effects.

I had single-handedly decimated a major portion of the soldiers and it was only normal for the rest to display fear and doubt. I may have not been a blood-soaked barbarian in a sea of dead bodies, but the steaming magical energy around me was almost more intimidating. They only saw a faceless humanoid who wasn't afraid of cruelty.

As I shifted towards the remaining enemies, they all flinched and took a step back. The commander was clenching her teeth and her hand trembled, squeezing her bow so tight that I could detect the crunching sound of her dark leather glove.

She spat and furiously leered at her troops. “Thirty gold sovereigns to the one who brings me her head!” she yelled. “She's exhausted, now's our chance!”

Her rallying cry seemed to affect the soldiers and they joined in a howl before attempting an united attack against me. The leader was correct to assume that I was almost out of my own mana, but she had no clue of the power the red lyrium supplied me. Even after resting and eating properly, traces of the drug had been strong enough to destroy a qunari dreadnaught back at Isabela's ship. I felt light and confident, sensing how the lyrium continued to strengthen every inch of by body. The tingling at my fingertips made me celebrate my victory in advance by grinning.

I slipped away with a teleportation spell and reappeared at the stairs at the alienage entrance. A cloud of black, necrotic fog gathered between my palms as my hands danced in a circular motion. The mercenaries and their leader were desperately trying to reach me in time, but my spell was ready and I channeled the cloud in the middle of them where it expanded into a mist of death. Compared to the method where my Arvaarad had ordered me to use the same spell to slowly and painfully torture his enemies, the way I quickly suffocated the men by controlling the fog with more magic was a hundred times more merciful. The area fell silent, as if the god of death had entered the battlefield and created a graveyard cloaked in necrotic haze.

I stared at the results of the fight, taking deep breaths and removing the spell that masked my face. In order to evade the mournful scene, I watched the tall elven tree, my eyes going up and scanning the highest branches that were like arms reaching to the night sky. I thought that for the elves, it meant they were always close to their gods and those who had perished.

“You are not getting away alive!” a sudden shout came behind me.

My first instinct should have been to evade, but instead my perplexed mind told me to turn around and meet the one who was about to sink his dagger into me. I gasped and hastily began to cast a magical shield while rising my other arm to take the blow in case I was too late.

I was certain that my eyes were seeing things when all of a sudden a hand punched through the enemy's chest, right where his heart had been. My face and clothes got so bloody that it looked like I had slaughtered an animal while hugging it. The stench was disgusting and my sandals got painted in red too when I staggered away to see who was guilty of making such a mess.

Before I even gazed forward, a shiver alarmed me and I sensed foreign magic. The feeling was only momentary and when I lifted my chin, I saw an elf and understood immediately. Visible silver markings snaked across his bronze skin. The sensation was faint, but I knew they were made of lyrium. Most likely I wouldn't be able to sense it without the red lyrium in my system as the power behind the markings was so well concealed, detectable only when utilized.

I hadn't even realized how rude my staring must have been and I looked into the elf's eyes. His short, pure white hair had spots of blood in it and he looked as puzzled as I was, though he hid his expression better.

“This I did not expect,” the elf said in a deep, clear voice while glancing around the alienage. “Am I to believe that you did this by yourself?”

The more people asked questions from me, the more I understood what a disadvantage my muteness was. All I could do to answer was to nod.

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Impressive, I must say,” he laughed a little. “But I remember telling Anso to recruit at least four people for this distraction. These hunters were after me, so let me apologize if you got hurt because of the deception.”

Of course it had been a trap, but I needed to know how the elf was involved to make sure I could relax. I presumed he was an ally because I was uninjured thanks to him, but the amount of the mercenaries I had killed was ridiculously high against one elf, making me suspicious. My curiosity however had got me into the current situation and it had only increased after meeting another individual who had survived after being exposed to lyrium like me.

The sleeves of my trousers were somewhat clean. I wiped the stains of red on my right hand and offered it to the elf, giving him a neutral smile of neither a friend or foe.

Despite the confusion on his face, he was kind enough to follow my example. He used his left hand to take mine, not the right one that was smeared with the enemy's blood. I felt the steel of his gauntlets and the lyrium markings on his palm, but the danger he emitted wasn't threatening. In fact, it resembled a lot of the kind of energy I used to wrap myself with to keep the qunari soldiers away from me.

“I can't repay you for your service with a mere handshake,” the elf said, grinning briefly. “My name is Fenris and I think I owe you a full explanation.”

 


	11. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!
> 
> Sorry if Fenris doesn't seem as broody as he was in the game. God I hated that brooding. I apologize to those who love his brooding if he isn't broody enough in this story.
> 
> SPECIAL EDIT: Thanks to User pedant, the error of Fenris' ability to read has been spotted, thank you! I've rewritten some parts of the chapter to support the fact that he was illiterate in the game (I had totally forgotten it). Hope you still enjoy it!

After hearing that Fenris had once been a slave, I had to stop him, leaving him quite puzzled. If I continued to listen in silence, he could have got the impression that I wasn't interested or had a problem accepting his story.

My hands moved swiftly under the pressure of being stared at and the words I wrote on my paper looked weird, like a five year old child had scribbled them. Fenris frowned as he looked at the message, but his eyes didn't follow the letters for some reason. Still, I showed him proof that I wasn't joking by opening my mouth.

“I must admit, I wouldn't have guessed even though the way you communicated till now was...strange, to say the least,” he said and gave the paper back.

I had to smile, because I knew for the best how silly my gestures seemed at times. Despite having lived with the disability for so many years, I still struggled to express myself due to the lack of people who would be willing to talk. Most of the hand signs I had used among the other Saarebas mages had whole different meanings in their language. Even a simple nod could have been an insult if used in a wrong situation.

There was a peculiar look in Fenris' eyes which caused me to blink in confusion. “I was wondering who did this to you,” he finally broke the silence. “I know only some certain people who have suffered the same fate, though I'm not comparing you to them. If it's personal, then I won't inquire further.”

A lump in my throat blocked my breath for a moment before I calmed myself down. Before interrupting him, Fenris had clearly stated his disgust towards the magister who had enslaved him and bore no love for others like him. His question made me believe that he was aware of the qunari customs. I felt a drop of sweat rolling on my temple as I imagined his reaction, but I had no right to lie.

_The qunari_ , I wrote.

Again, Fenris didn't read the words, just looked at them briefly and then glanced at me before turning his attention elsewhere, as if I had offended or he had something to hide.

As a reflex, I withdrew the paper and concealed it from Fenris, afraid that my actions had caused his view of myself to change radically. My surprise was genuine when he gave almost an embarrassed chuckle.

“I might be one of the most difficult people for you to communicate with then,” he said, his voice slow and quite hesitant. “The truth is I never...learned to read.”

Fenris clearly wished not to discuss about such a disadvantage. I could understand him, because I used to make every effort not to reveal my weaknesses as well. His illiteracy was a trait some individuals might have thought awkward, him included. Especially due to his past as a slave which must have been humiliating enough.

The paper in my fist crumbled and I stuffed it inside my pocket. Figuring no other way to answer Fenris, I used my hands to portray a pair of horns on my head. If he was as cognizant of the qunari as I believed, he wouldn't have any problem at guessing what I meant.

“The qunari,” Fenris said as quickly as I had expected and I nodded.

I was startled to see Fenris' expression change into hatred for a moment, although I had expected that, as well as the dangerous sensation of lyrium. He eyed at the corpses lying around in the alienage and clenched his fingers just enough so that the steel covering them chinked. I detected a threatening aura around him, but it didn't make me step back. I couldn't keep running away from the people who despised my kind.

“That explains a lot,” Fenris sounded as if he was vary of his words. “I see no weapons on you and no human being would be able to cause this sort of carnage bare-handed. Not without magic.”

I inhaled sharply, pondering of how to respond. The qunari considered mages as tools of war, so despite being hated I had still been useful in a sense, as long as I wore a heavy collar. Fenris was the first man I had met in ages who had the eyes of someone who would kill a mage just to lessen their population. The glare I had witnessed while listening to his description of his former master had been as terrifying as the Arishok's.

I lowered my gaze and stayed quiet. My mind was full of explanations that could have made Fenris believe that I wasn't like the magister, but he wouldn't be able to read them. A few simple hand gestures and acting would only look confusing, not helping the matter at all.

Sighing, the elf crouched to search the pockets of the man whose heart he had ripped out. I didn't want to seem too nosy, but couldn't refrain myself from glancing carefully.

“I was right,” Fenris spat and rose up. “Danarius has been in Kirkwall recently and it looks like he brought his finest with him from Tevinter.”

Before I could confirm if Danarius was the name of the magister, Fenris leered at me, his face firm like stone. “I need to confront him before he disappears again,” he said. “Even if it's magic, I wouldn't say no to an offer of help. It might even be the only power that can stop him, permanently.”

The way Fenris spoke gave me chills and he made me remember the times when I had been forced to fight before my old wounds had healed. His anger wasn't the same as a qunari's and I was aware that helping him didn't mean that I was an expendable asset. It was the scent of blood and the determination to end a life that concerned me about him. I hadn't sought for revenge and seeing people who did alarmed me a little. Of course I wouldn't hesitate to kill my Arvaarad if I had a perfect chance, but it wasn't something that could control my life. For me, my family, freedom and people like Anders or Isabela were more important than revenge.

If helping Fenris kill his former master meant that he too could start again without a wolf sneaking behind him, I had to oblige. I didn't need his acceptance and I was the least ideal person to make him see the good side of mages. My magic was bloody and I had too little ability in healing magic to show him the beauty stored in spells.

I nodded to him and climbed the first step of the stairs, indicating my willingness to go with him.

“You sure you don't need to clean up first?” Fenris asked and I was certain that he smirked.

I looked at my red clothes and shuddered when picturing my mother's gaping mouth at the sight of her daughter being soaked in blood. My head shook and I quickly spotted a waterskin on one of the mercenaries. I ran to grab it and emptied the contents on my blood-stained face and hair, inhaling deep when the liquid washed off the sweat on my forehead and removed the smell of iron that had become unbearable due to my lyrium strengthened senses.

When I walked back to Fenris, he was still keeping his guard up, but the lyrium on his skin didn't glimmer. I had no doubt that he would attack me if my magic became a threat to him, but I trusted my instincts. The elf hadn't drawn his sword at me, which made me think that I had been given a chance to widen his narrow-minded view of mages or at least of me.

 

#

 

As we proceeded to Hightown where Danarius was according to Fenris, I had managed to ask about his knowledge of the qunari by imitating horns with my hands again and pointing by finger between us over and over again.

“I know only a little,” he said. “I do know that other races can convert to the Qun, although I've never heard of a human Saarebas.”

_Wasn't my choice_ , I wanted to say, but ended up gazing at the ground instead.

Fenris glanced at the sky for a moment, like he was estimating how much time we had till the sunrise. “For the qunari to take interest in a human mage is unusual,” his voice was low, almost a whisper. “What I saw in the alienage... I've only seen blood mages tear a whole unit of soldiers apart, but you're not injured. And I feel a strong force in you, even though I shouldn't be able to despite my markings.”

I had survived the qunari because of my power, just like Fenris had survived the magister because of his markings. They were valuable to the horrible man who had burned them on his skin and I had been the only mage who could eat red lyrium, thus keeping me alive had only made me strong enough to finally escape.

“How do you plan to use that power now that you're not with them anymore?” Fenris asked.

My legs slowed down till I stopped entirely. It was my desire to learn more about the world that was so alien to me. I had received all the information in my head from the qunari and they weren't the best teachers.

One of the most brutal truths they had made me believe for years was that nothing couldn't be achieved without a struggle and most of the time it involved blood. For me, waking up in the morning was a great achievement, but the qunari felt successful only after a victory in a battle. Everything else, from having a child to overcoming a disease were just steps in one's life and deserved no celebration.

As I stared at Fenris, the lyrium inside me felt unwelcome and it opened my eyes. Ever since eating the first tiny bit of red lyrium, I had hated the new kind of heat in my body and thought that it made me less human.

But the qunari weren't there any longer and I had people around me who didn't see me as a piece of trash. I was free and my fights weren't to please the others, but to hold on to the things I now had. With Anders' help, I could use my power to protect, not destroy. If I could achieve that, then maybe I wouldn't feel so disgusted and embarrassed of casting magic in front of others.

With some poor imitations, I attempted to depict a process of change, using an example like growing from small to large. After that, I put my palm flat against my chest and kept repeating the little scene until Fenris could figure my intended answer.

“Change and...you?” his index finger brushed his chin. “You...want to change yourself. Is that it?”

I gave a small grin.

“Hmm,” Fenris muttered and I had no idea what he thought of me. I wished to get to know him better and planned which spells I shouldn't show him in order not to seem like an uncontrollable abomination.

He stopped after we arrived at a district full of large, decorated houses. His eyes scanned the doors while all I could do was to wait. Every building looked so same to me, with their tall windows and pillars supporting the front cote. I smelled a scent of flowers coming from small pens located in the yard and appreciated how clean the streets were compared to Lowtown. Hightown still reeked of trouble for someone like me and I would always choose the underground if that and a noble's house were my options.

Fenris approached a house that was separated from the others and touched its wooden door, as if he was sensing what was inside. “This must be it,” he said and stepped back. “There's the same carving on the frame Danarius has left on other buildings owned by him. A ward of sorts.”

I nodded and followed him inside. I expected to be ambushed, but there were no living souls in the hallway. The corners were dusty and some of the paintings on the walls were on the verge of dropping. It felt like months had passed since someone had lived in the house and I saw disappointment on Fenris' face.

“If this is your way of trying to turn me away, then it's not working, Danarius!” Fenris shouted loudly, causing me to wince in surprise.

I could understand his hunger for the magister's blood, although he was like a completely different person than the one I had met in the alienage. His eyes were pretty as Jethann's, but filled with rage and unrest. I wondered if my gaze would have been similar had I stood up against the qunari instead of quivering in the Saarebas' quarters.

Room after room, we wandered through the house and found nothing. The building was abandoned, but Fenris refused to give up. I tried to direct his attention at the spider webs, broken jars and moldy corners and he still believed that Danarius had been there. I was happy to lend my skills to help, but the stubborn elf was gradually making my blood pressure rise.

The sensation made me bite my lower lip. The qunari had always demanded swift results and swung their swords before asking questions. It horrified me to realize that I had adapted their impatient behavior. Rather than have a strategy of how to defeat my enemies with cunning and simple spells, I resorted to the most devastating magic possible in order to bring a situation to a conclusion.

As I gritted my teeth, Fenris whipped his head at me and squinted. “No offense, but it is a bit alarming that I, out of all people, can detect that power of yours,” he snorted. “You can control it, right?”

My lips parted and I looked away. The past had yanked me to the wrong direction again and the red lyrium in my system had responded to those feelings. My cold fingers were warmed in no time, urging to throw a fireball at someone.

What my Arvaarad had repeated to me before a battle was more true than ever. The red lyium grew in potency depending on how enraged the mage was. I hadn't even noticed how angrily I had fought while drugged, despite the proof of scattered maimed corpses.

The fact of my reckless casting of magic hit me hard, but Fenris gave me something else to think about when he halted at the door that lead to the main hall, a serious look in his eyes.

“I'm going to trust you, because I'm quite certain that trouble is waiting for us behind this door,” he said and placed his hand on the door knob. “I smell blood and wouldn't be surprised to encounter demons. Danarius fancies sending them to do his dirty work.”

I walked closer and froze when the lyrium caused me to sense an overwhelming force in the hall. Because gesturing the word 'dangerous' seemed like an impossible thing to do, I tried to look as concerned as I could, my brow furrowing and my lips pressed into a line.

“We have to be fast,” Fenris whispered, gripping the handle of his sword.

I was no tactician, but even a fool wouldn't storm against an army of Maker knows what, not even during a quest for vengeance. When Fenris shifted forward, I unconsciously grabbed his arm. His markings flashed with dim light and I let go only when he glanced at me. He was more bemused than shocked.

I showed him my palm, expressing my wish for him to wait and he stared at me like I wasn't making any sense, considering the situation.

I gestured him to take a few steps back and he reluctantly complied. To concentrate, I thought about my family and Anders, erasing the image of Fenris disapproving my abilities. I couldn't change my magic in an instant and had to believe that the elf wouldn't see me as a threat.

My fingers curled and I began to prepare the spell of creating a blizzard. The red lyrium decreased the spell's temperature even more and I forbade myself from taking a glimpse of Fenris' reaction. The air swirled around me and I got chills, even though the ice wasn't real. Noises could be heard from the main hall, but not even a demon would be able to cancel my finished, empowered spell.

After taking a deep breath, I kicked the door open and walked forward just enough to launch the blizzard into the room. My arm made half a circle when I swept it from down towards the ceiling and my mind spoke the words that evoked the icy storm. I retreated and saw at least a dozen shades and a Rage Demon. The flames that coated the Rage Demon stood no chance against my ice and it bellowed under the power it couldn't defeat. The shades lost their leader in the blink of an eye and attempted to exit the range of my spell.

I signed Fenris to take position at the door and stayed still to lure in two shades that the ice couldn't trap. They glided above the floor and sensed no pain whenever the blizzard damaged them. Their blank expressions stirred me as I ordered myself not to run.

As soon as the first shade got through the open door, Fenris struck it with a blow that could have snapped a human's neck instantly. He finished the opponent by cutting it from shoulder to waist and side-stepped before the other shade could reach him. I had seen my brothers wielding greatswords and knew that no minor protection spell would be efficient against such a weapon. In Fenris' hands, the sword seemed as light as a stick and he kept swinging it faster than a normal human or elf ever could. I could hear the whistling of the blade as he slashed the remaining shade, almost decapitating it. Black ooze streamed from the enemy's neck and it made no attempt at covering the wound.

As the shade slumped on the floor, the blizzard in the main hall died down, leaving all the frozen creatures behind. The ones that were still alive but immobilized got shattered by the pommel of Fenris' sword. I felt how the lyrium on his skin boosted his strength to break the thick ice.

Fenris sheathed his weapon and brushed the white frost off his gauntlet. “It's been a while since I've witnessed a spell that mighty,” he glanced around and met my eyes. “I thought only blood magic could kill so many enemies at once.”

There was no way that I could have told Fenris how I too had been commanded to use my blood after running out of mana. I had also done it willingly couple of times and wasn't proud of it. Even if he were to call me a freak, the truth about the red lyrium was a far easier option than trying to hide the facts behind circling lies. I had experienced that while honesty often gave me broken bones, even a single lie could have been enough to lose my whole skin.

The moment of silence was short-lived as I sensed another being in the room and spun around, gazing everywhere to locate the source.

“What now?” Fenris didn't sound surprised.

I gasped when a demon with magic popped out on the second floor at the other end of the room. It held an arrow-like object made of spiritual energy on its palm. My eyes tracked the arrow as it was shot against the chandelier right above us. The clinking of the crystals was the trigger that made me clasp my fingers around Fenris' wrist and teleport us out of the way.

After we reappeared on the same floor as the Arcane Horror demon, the look on Fenris' face was the most mysterious. I quickly released his hand and prayed the spell hadn't caused him to resent magic even more.

“Alright then,” Fenris changed his stance. “Whatever that power you have is, it's starting to seem quite useful.”

He squeezed his sword and opened his right hand. I saw how his pupils shrank and the energy he unleashed was so strong it created a small breeze that blew tresses of hair off his forehead. His tattoos shone for a moment and his body was fading, like he was standing in a mist. Had I not known that Fenris wasn't a spirit, his current appearance would have fooled me to think otherwise.

The Arcane Horror waited no longer and gathered magical fire between its palms. As Fenris slowly exhaled, I found myself oddly calm and had confidence in the elf. I believed that it was time for my body to rest and have trust in something else than my own power for a change.

Faster than I could perceive, Fenris charged the enemy and cut through the demon's side, tearing the cloth and flesh beneath it. The Arcane Horror grunted with a deep voice and my fists balled when it cast a burst of fire at Fenris. Nervously, I was about to hold my breath, but the opponent's spell couldn't damage Fenris. I saw the flames on his arm and stared in awe when he counter-attacked, uninjured and still blurry due to the lyrium markings.

The more his blade slashed the target, the quicker his movements got. Only because of the red lyrium I was able to see in which directions Fenris evaded. Even when the demon attempted to trick him by casting an illusion of itself, the elf wasn't deceived and his tattoos acted as an accelerator when his elbow hit the Arcane Horror's jaw hard, crushing it.

The enemy's spells were interrupted over and over again and the scene made me think myself as a fortunate person for not being the mage as Fenris' opponent. I had witnessed the templar magic and the qunari devices that were used to control or kill mages, but never had I met a warrior like Fenris who seemed to be aware of every possible strategy against my kind.

The Arcane Horror fell on the ground after Fenris cut its arm off. The gushing blood stained the area where he had stood and the walls nearby also got painted with red spots. With no hesitation, Fenris lifted his sword, the tip pointing down at the enemy's throat. One final gurgle came from the demon's destroyed mouth before the blade above silenced it. A twist ensured that the monster was dead and Fenris stepped away from the corpse, not taking even a glimpse of it.

Congratulating after such a bloody battle didn't seem appropriate, so I just nodded my head, gesturing my amazement. As Fenris replied by sighing quietly, I spotted a wound on his arm, close to the elbow. My staring made him notice it as well.

“Ah, I must have hit something sharp on that abomination's face when I attacked it,” Fenris inspected the injury, turning his arm and shaking it. “It's nothing, let's move on.”

His words suddenly clutched my heart, at least that was how I felt. The qunari were at the top of the list of things I couldn't stand, but not far from them was the group of people who didn't value their lives. Fenris' wound wasn't serious, but I didn't approve the way how he ignored it.

I wasn't the type of person who abandoned others because of their faults. Instead, I accepted them and fought against the urge to argue. Ironically, it wasn't tough for me to keep my thoughts to myself.

Fenris opened the large double door that was behind us and rushed inside before I could suggest that we should have searched the other rooms on the second floor first. I watched him going through the bookshelves and the papers on the table. The noise of his quiet cursing was barely detectable and I slowly followed after him, glancing at the corners full of spider webs and the bed that had no sheets nor any other marks of being recently used.

“He's not here,” Fenris stated, his finger sweeping the dust on the window ledge. “Somehow, that doesn't come as a shock.”

I gazed at his eyes, seeing the fatigue I had seen in Anders'. Part of me understood his disappointment. If we had discovered Danarius, his death could have granted Fenris his freedom. The other part wondered why the elf couldn't feel free without killing the magister. My tribe was strong and I wouldn't be surprised if they had survived the storm, but I was unshackled. As long as I wasn't wearing the Saarebas collar, whether the tribe was alive or not, I was free.

A thought came to my mind and I hastily tried to convey my message to Fenris. After a while, he blinked several times and snorted.

“Are you asking me if I always fight alone?” he deciphered.

A sound that indicated him being correct came from my closed mouth.

“Does it look like I have?”

_The mess I did at the alienage was only possible because I was alone_ , I would have written on a paper, but found myself powerless to explain the point without proper words. I did my best at trying to make Fenris realize that he and I had been in similar circumstances.

Fenris fell silent for a while before he looked at me and grinned. “I think I know what you mean. It's much easier to use full force against the enemies when I don't have to be concerned about allies. The magic you cast to kill the shades wasn't exactly the kind you would use if your friends were fighting at the field.”

I scratched the hair behind my ear, trying to figure out how to make Fenris comprehend. My mind was almost out of ideas and I redrew the image I had used to express my will to change and made every gesture possible to come up with something that would describe a person who I would call an ally or a friend, someone who I'd entrust my back to.

It was stunning to hear Fenris chuckle, as it was the kind that indicated consent. “Interesting,” he said as he walked past me back to the main hall. “So you're saying that I should do that too? Have allies?”

Baffled, I gaped at him and wondered how in the name of everything twisted he could have read my clumsy hand movements and translate them into the right phrases. His insight was beyond honed or the first guesses that popped into his head had always been correct. He didn't seem like a lucky person to be, but a skillful warrior who perceived everything around him with precision.

“You're right,” Fenris sneered while leering at the pieces of shades on the red carpets on the first level. “I would have been hurt without your help, more badly than this.” He looked his wound that was still bleeding a little.

Swallowing hard, I walked to the elf and told myself to relax and have faith in my strength to do more than kill. To make him turn his arm, I tapped on it so that I could see his injury. Waiting for Fenris to comply increased the anxiety inside me, but I knew that if I could implement the red lyrium to enhance deadly spells, surely it would work on healing magic too.

Fenris was willing to give me a chance, though the way I deciphered his expression of squinted eyes could have been wrong. Nevertheless, I brought up the image of Anders healing my wound, focusing on the spell itself. Creating the warm sphere around my hand wasn't difficult and I called forth my lyrium-powered mana. The spell grew in force and I was delighted not to sense any pain. Any stinging sensation would have meant that the healing could have had an exact opposite effect.

I moved my hand closer to Fenris' wound. He remained still and when my palm covered the injury without touching it, my mouth opened in an amazed smile. The spell was healing the cut and as I concentrated more, it began to close up faster. Fenris said nothing, although I was more busy admiring the healing process than worrying about his reaction.

The spell weakened immediately after I had treated one wound, reminding me of the time it would take for me to reach Anders' level. I wasn't exhausted or out of mana, but no matter how I curled and opened my hand, I couldn't generate the sphere of healing again.

I glanced at Fenris who stroked the healed skin and gave me a satisfied grin. “I've seen more miracles in one day than in all the years in Tevinter,” he said and I sensed that he had become more relaxed. “A mage unbelievably powerful without blood magic who also uses the same power to cure wounds.”

The praise made me blush and I crossed my arms as a sign to kindly ask him to stop.

“I already miss the fresh air,” Fenris rolled his shoulders. “You've done more than I could have asked for, so the least I can do is to walk you out, right?”

My lips arched up and I carefully stepped over the corpse of the Arcane Horror, although my clothes were already so bloody that explaining it had been an impossible task to begin with.

 

 


	12. A Broken Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and BioWare!
> 
> SPECIAL EDIT: Thanks to User pedant, the error of Fenris' ability to read has been spotted, thank you! I've rewritten a small part from the beginning of the chapter to support the fact that he was illiterate in the game (I had totally forgotten it). Hope you still enjoy it!

I glanced over my shoulder at Fenris before walking to the steps that descended to the Chantry courtyard. He had decided to stay in the house in case the magister returned and offered to aid me if I ever needed an extra hand. The tasks my brothers received every day involved fighting most of the time, so I expressed Fenris that they would gladly accept his help. Despite more awkward hand signs, he had been assured which made me grin as a response.

He disappeared back into Danarius' mansion and I was left alone to come up with an explanation for my bloody clothes. They stunk horrible and the fact that I was still drugged by the red lyrium made it worse. No store was open at so early in the morning and I preferred to hide before the first citizens woke up. I had nothing left to write on and wouldn't be able to convince strangers that I wasn't a random murderer with hand gestures.

Sighing, I dragged myself forward, almost tripping because of my tired body. I had got used to the lack of sleep, but two battles in a night with red lyrium as my weapon was taking its toll. I was thirsty and the brightness outside was making my head ache, even though the sun hadn't revealed itself. My feet felt like I had stones tied to my ankles and my thoughts were jumbled.

As I landed on the square tiles of the Chantry yard, I stopped for a moment to stare at the emptiness of the district, thinking that it represented the same hollowness I had in my mind. When my vision got blurry for a second, I winced and slapped my cheeks. I was reminded of how the red lyrium was lethal to the most and I had been fortunate to have my wits about me. Perhaps my obstinacy had helped me to push the side effects away, but it didn't mean that my body could endure after every dose of the substance.

I glanced around and saw a bench. Carefully, I walked to it and the cold wall felt great against my back as I sat down. I found a clean spot on my sleeve and used it to wipe the sweat from my temples, concentrating on breathing in and out. Never before had I had an opportunity to rest so freely after killing so many. The Saarebas' were usually commanded to fight till they collapsed if a tough battle required it.

I wiped all the rules the qunari had made for their mages from my mind, inhaling the sweet scent of lilies I detected even over the odor of blood.

 

#

 

“Reneka! Reneka, come on! Wake up!”

I quailed and let out a sound that reinforced my surprise. My eyes were heavy and begged me to continue my unintended sleep, but I struggled to keep them open to see who had woken me up.

I met Isabela's eyes, full of horrified worry. “Maker's ass, what the hell happened to you?” she breathed, her hands on my shoulders.

Pointing at myself and shaking my head didn't seem to be the right gesture to tell her that none of the blood was mine. My fidgeting only made Isabela more concerned.

“You look like shit,” she said as nicely as a pirate could. “Why isn't Rogue or anyone with you?”

Her questions were pointless, as I had no tools nor strength to answer her. I took her hand and squeezed it gently, trying to calm her and smiled as a sign that there was nothing wrong with me.

Isabela pressed her lips into a thin line and rose up. “I'm not going to let you show yourself to your family in that condition. Come on, I know a place where you can rest.”

The look I gave Isabela expressed my hesitation. I had fallen asleep only for minutes and still wished to be home before my mother would wake up in order to clean up. She would certainly lock me up if she found out that I had spent the night killing mercenaries and demons.

Isabela was about to smirk, but I must have looked worse that I had thought because she ended up gazing at me with distressed eyes. “Don't worry, I'll talk to your brother,” she said. “Lucky you that I took this path on my way to where we're going now.”

Sleep kept tempting me and didn't care that we would have to reach the place Isabela had mentioned first. She supported me as I stood up and I had to take a couple of slow steps to test the strength in my wobbly legs. I wanted to walk on my own, but Isabela refused to let my hand go and ensured that I stayed close.

My eyes caught glimpses of the gray buildings in Hightown and the glimmers of light in some of the windows made me realize how many hours it had been since I left the Hanged Man. Time was one of the last things I thought about while fighting for my life and the red lyrium had worn me down faster than lack of sleep normally would.

I had no clue where Isabela was leading me. There were beautiful red lanterns hanging near the door we were about to enter and above us was a crimson-colored silk sheet, attached to the wall and two thin pillars. The scent of roses hovered inside the house and I heard giggling, mixed with the sound of clinking glass. I lifted my gaze from the floor and almost collided with a woman who was carrying plates and fine wine goblets. Her wide eyes scanned me, from head to toes.

“Come on, Reneka, try to stay awake for a little longer,” Isabela pinched my hand, but I felt too awful to withdraw it. “And you, no staring. This is our business.”

The waitress nodded awkwardly and left us in a hurry. Isabela snorted and yanked me, rushing towards the stairs. I noticed the looks strangers gave us and how they turned away to most likely murmur about my dirty appearance. I clearly stood out in a spotless place such as the hall we were in. The only red there was on the same kind silk sheets hanged on the walls I had seen outside and the smell that persistently followed me resembled the one I had lived with in the Saarebas' quarters. It consisted of iron, sweat and damp earth.

Every step was like climbing a mountain and despite the grumbling coming out of my stomach, I had no appetite. Even the slightest of noises hurt my ears and I didn't care about how shocked my family would be anymore. All I desired was to have something soft to lie on and remove the sandals that uncomfortably rubbed the calluses on my ankles. For a moment, I missed the days I had run around bare-feet.

I didn't wish to be a burden, so I took a long, deep breath and pressed my teeth together before lustily walking to the second level without Isabela's help. The words she shouted after me were unclear as all my focus was on keeping my eyes open. I felt her touch when she reached me but before I looked at her, my attention was caught by an elven man who ran to us from one of the rooms. His figure was hazy, just like everything else around me. My legs were shaking and the skin on my palms was cold.

The elf approached me and his familiar, ocean blue irises made me hold my breath before my mind went dark.

 

#

 

The chirping of the birds woke me up. The first thing I saw was the canopy of the bed I had been sleeping in, covered in red fabrics. I slowly turned my head and glanced at the decorative furniture in the room. It was as if I was in a noble's house and the bed was so soft I felt like it was sucking me in.

I scrambled up to a seating position and moved the velvet sheets on top of me that were too hot. As I grabbed them, I noted that the clothes I was wearing weren't mine. They were pure white and the shirt had three little buttons which were opened, almost exposing my chest. I was surprised that I wasn't suffering from a headache nor painful stinging in my body. It had been the least I had expected after the side effects of the red lyrium.

A sudden realization made me silently gasp and my hand squeezed the area where the pocket of my trousers would have been. There were no pockets on the clothes I was wearing. The few lyrium shards I had left were gone and I panicked. Touching red lyrium was enough to drive most people mad, so whoever had taken my clothes could have been in danger.

While recalling the previous day's events and nervously biting my fingernail, someone knocked on the closed door. I still wasn't certain of where I was, but the knocking made me think of Roghart and the code he had invented. He wasn't the first person I wished to see when the black circles around my eyes were still fresh, though at that moment I didn't want to see anyone.

My fingers curled and I knocked the frame of the bed behind me three times. When the door opened, I froze and tried to prepare myself to confront my brother, but it wasn't him who entered. The tension in my muscles eased off when my gaze was met by the deepest, prettiest blue elven eyes in the world.

“Wow, it actually worked,” Jethann chuckled.

I stared at Jethann, so stunned that I couldn't smile with him. Resting had cleared my mind and I remembered him before passing out. My heart pounded and I fought to keep my tears back. Although the Saarebas' of my tribe had sometimes caused the same reaction if they returned from a battle alive, I had become much more emotional after my escape. It was the only way I could explain why I wanted to shed tears for a friend I had known only for months.

Jethann shook his head like he wasn't impressed and folded his arms across his chest. “Don't look so sad, Reneka,” he said, grinning. “You'll make all the people who are waiting for you worry even more.”

I looked behind Jethann through the open door. Memories came back to me as I glanced at the red silk curtains and the large hall that was lit with a dim light. The perfume of roses was so strong that it was even on my blankets.

Without the symptoms of using red lyrium to cloud my wits, I could deduce my location. I had never visited a brothel, but Jethann's presence and the large, ornate building were reasons enough for me to think that I was in one.

Jethann approached a small round table and took one of the cups and the jug on it. When he lifted the water jug, he sniffed it first, as if making sure that it wasn't spoiled if that was even possible. He turned and I didn't even bother to attempt to evade his blue eyes.

“You managed to scare even Isabela, and that is quite an achievement,” Jethann laughed and poured the water. “Can you believe it? She even ordered me to give you my bed. Plus you should have seen her face when I told her that I knew who you were. For a second, she thought of all kinds of ways of how that could have been possible.”

My cheeks reddened and I lowered my gaze in embarrassment.

Jethann smirked and handed me the cup. “Cheer up miss, I would have done it without her commanding me. I kept an eye on you while she went to fetch the Darktown healer.”

I coughed after failing at swallowing the water because of what Jethann had said. He was startled and ready to help me, but he understood my calm gesture and relaxed.

“He's still here, said that he wouldn't leave until you woke up,” Jethann continued, answering the question I had wanted to ask. “And so are your brothers, which is why I knew about the knocking thing. The diner of the Blooming Rose is quite crowded currently, you should come by more often if it means this many customers.”

I finally managed to smile a little and it seemed to make Jethann happy. What I didn't show him was the uneasiness building up inside me. There was a taste in my mouth, so bitter that I could sense it even without a tongue.

I returned my half-finished drink and Jethann exhaled, putting the items in his hands away. “Anyway, I better go and let the healer know that you're awake,” he said. “I won't allow you to leave this room without him examining you first.”

My nod was quite reluctant and Jethann must have noticed because he lifted his brow, creating a puzzled expression. I blinked innocently and the elf let the matter go. After what he had done for me in the underground, the way how I treated him was unfair. I hadn't lied to Fenris who hated magic, but I hadn't contacted Jethann in a long time and didn't want to appear weak.

He scratched the back of his head and leaned to touch my hand with his. His palm was soft and warm and I found myself eying at a ring with a ruby stone around one of his fingers.

“Once you have recovered, I'd love to hear...or read about all these people you have gathered around yourself,” he smirked and surprised me by raising my chin with his index finger. “There is a whole new layer of light surrounding you and I can't wait to be introduced to this different lady Reneka.”

Jethann laughed and I gestured him to stop teasing me, feeling how the unpleasant knot in my stomach was decreasing in size. After he left, I blew out all the air I had been detaining in my lungs and threw my legs over the bed. The tingling in my feet kept me from trying to stand up yet.

The room fell quiet without Jethann there and although he didn't close the door, the clamor coming from the hall wasn't loud. The sash window was slightly opened, allowing the wind to enter and freshen the air. I was certain that the all the luxuries and Jethann were enough to calm my nerves, but I was proved wrong when my brothers came to the room, Anders accompanying them.

Roghart's eyes frightened me. I was anticipating a lecture for making everyone worry, but the glare he gave me wasn't just of anger or anxiety. What his current thoughts were about was too hard to speculate. Unlike him, Carver was distinctly chocked and Anders seemed like my awakening had been some kind of a miracle.

“See, she's fine,” I heard Isabela's voice and she followed the others to the room, like she had been waiting at the door just outside. “You can settle down now, Rogue.”

“Sure, if you consider being knocked out for three days fine,” Carver spat. “Oh, and don't forget about the fever.”

My jaw dropped in confusion. Carver's words rang in my head like a curse. Losing consciousness because of red lyrium wasn't unusual, but I had never slept for three days after using it. As a Saarebas, I couldn't afford to keep my eyes closed for so long, no matter how much I wished to. Every shadow had alarmed me of soldiers who didn't trust me.

The thought of this situation repeating after every time red lyrium would give me side effects appalled me. Had the qunari forced me to stay awake to erase such a weakness?

I gazed at Anders, trying to understand what Carver had said.

“By the time I got here, you had a high fever which caused your body to cramp,” Anders said, so quietly like he didn't want to speak the words. “It took two days to heal you and you still rested for twenty four hours after that.”

Carver shook his head. “When you weren't at home, we went through Lowtown searching for you,” he pointed at himself and Roghart. “That was when we arrived at the elven alienage.”

The color on my face faded away and I gripped the cloth of my trousers.

“What in the Maker's name was that, Reneka?” Carver sounded disgusted. “Was it blood magic?”

The leer I shot at my younger brother was piercing. I didn't expect everyone I knew to accept magic, not even my family, but I wasn't about to tolerate being blamed for doing what was necessary to survive. Carver's attitude of not hiding his disapproval and not caring whether the others witnessed it enraged me, the same way Anders had when I hadn't come to terms with my disability. I couldn't stand people who were like the qunari, who let their assumptions be the judge of their actions.

Even though Carver was my brother, I had to hold myself back in order not to slap him. In the end, it was Anders who made me regain my composure, or rather the angry presence I felt around him when he glared at Carver after the accusation.

“Watch what you say aloud,” he told my brother, not yielding under the look he was given. “I detected a foreign substance in Reneka's system, which most likely made her ill.”

After Carver fell silent, the dangerous aura from Anders vanished and I sighed. The moment of serenity was short lived when the healer revealed the contents of his leather pouch and I spotted the red lyrium shards.

“Recognize these?” he inquired, but not in an abusive tone.

The shards were wrapped in a piece of cloth, so if Anders had been the one who had discovered them, no-one had had the chance to touch them. I breathed out from relief, but didn't believe Anders would return them if I asked, not until I assured him that I was probably the only person in the world who suffered no sanity loss from holding red lyrium.

The eyes targeted at me made me edgy. Everyone had a varying point of view of me and I wouldn't be able to have a speech that would satisfy them all. I had deliberately poisoned myself and had known about the consequences, but for the first time I was compelled to justify such a principle.

Roghart had listened in silence and I stirred when he walked closer to me. “I must speak to Reneka alone,” he said and glanced at Anders. “Can you check her and then go outside with the others?”

My brother's voice was like a commander's, filled with charismatic sharpness that made even Isabela drop the questions she obviously had been wanting to ask. Slowly, my head lowered and I stared at my balled fists on my lap. Not even Anders' palm against my forehead could bring a smile on my lips.

“Her fever is gone and she has rested enough,” the healer said and I didn't move at all when his hand was cloaked in blue energy, sliding across my neck and back. “The healing doesn't have any further effect on her and I don't sense lyrium. She's alright.”

Anders sounded relieved after saying the last words, which made me want to meet his eyes. The anguish in my very soul prevented me from doing so, despite the efforts I made to order myself to look up. I missed my opportunity when everyone except Roghart left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Roghart sat on the bed next to me. Though my hands trembled, he gave me paper and a simple charcoal pen and pulled the end table near the bed in front of me, as if I was about to make a statement of sorts.

Before Roghart talked, I quickly wrote _I'm sorry_ on the paper.

“Apology won't fix this, Reneka,” Roghart said in a deep baritone. “This is not about me nor Carver. There is someone else who needs your apology more than we do.”

I nodded, thinking of how sad I must have made mother.

“You weren't there to watch how mother almost destroyed herself after you were captured all those years ago,” Roghart snapped, likely acting more annoyed than he had intended. “Father gave his life searching for you and mother did no less. She kept all your belongings, made your unused bed every day and cooked to feed three children mouths. She never let go, never thought for a second that you were already-”

He pressed his teeth together and I could guess how his sentence would have ended. I hadn't realized that one night away from home had hurt my family this much. It had caused mother to remember the home that had been missing one girl and the time must had been awful for my brothers as well.

I regretted for not informing anyone before heading to the alienage and helping Fenris, but not the mission I had been part of. I knew Roghart or mother would have strongly opposed the idea of me wandering in Kirkwall on my own and meant only well. The ambush in the alienage wouldn't have been a surprise if the mercenaries hadn't been so numerous and I would have fled had there been another way out back to Lowtown. I simply chose the best solution I could think of, my only mistake having been the misjudgment of how tired I was.

The pen in my fingers worked fast as I wrote a short version of how I had run into Anso and Fenris, which had led me to Danarius' mansion in Hightown. The more I explained, the more Roghart frowned and he finally halted me.

“Why didn't you tell this dwarf that he was mistaken?” he asked, looking into my wet eyes.

_He was a smuggler,_ I wrote. _I told him to leave the city if I took care of his problem._

“So you will take care of every smuggler in Kirkwall and aid every mistreated person you meet?”

_If someone saw me, they would have thought that I was connected to Anso,_ my letters came out in a slight frustration. _I did what I had to in the alienage. I helped Fenris because I knew I could handle it._

“I want to understand, Reneka,” Roghart took my hand. “I really do, but I can't do it without your trust. You should have come to me and not charge into a battle by yourself.”

I did trust my brothers, but Roghart didn't see my point. If my mind had warned me that going with Fenris was a suicide, of course I would have suggested that we required more fighters in our group. Why wouldn't I fight alongside my brothers and friends now that I could do that? A Saarebas was always alone, positioned at an advantageous location on the field like a piece of a game of chess.

Roghart grunted and stood up, pacing back and forth. “You say that you could handle it,” he waved his arm. “Yet what I saw tells me otherwise. Why would you hurt yourself before coming to me?”

Like the mercenaries I had killed with a freezing spell, I froze and remained as still as a statue, feeling how a thousand needles stung every inch of my body. It was my fault for not sharing all the pain I had endured as a Saarebas, but I got mad nevertheless. I had eaten red lyrium by force for years and had used it only twice since my escape: to finally get off the qunari land and to stay alive when I had faced twenty enemies. Nothing in my mind told me that it had been wrong. I was prepared for all kinds of symptoms in exchange for my life in freedom and it irritated me that I couldn't make the others understand.

I didn't care how childishly I thought, how I kept blaming the qunari for ruining everything. All I had ever wished for was to enjoy the sun and the stars, to reunite with my family and to experience all the things a normal person would. I wanted to replace agony with love and happiness, to learn healing magic from Anders and forget about red lyrium and its destructive power.

If I could have reached Roghart while inside the alienage warehouse, I would have done so without hesitation. Why didn't he understand that I'd be dead had I not resorted to red lyrium, that a fever and cramps were absolutely nothing compared to not being able to see him, Carver and mother ever again?

_I won't be imprisoned again_ , I wrote, not hiding my tears anymore. _If I say that I can handle myself on the streets of Kirkwall, I mean it._

“Well, obviously,” Roghart snorted. “Can you blame mother for wanting to lock you inside the house? After such a violent night just when you've returned to us?”

_I don't seek trouble,_ the tip of my pen tore a small hole on the paper. _But I won't run if I know I can take care of it._

“Now you are being selfish!” Roghart shouted loudly, something I wished I could do. “Not every battle is yours to fight, Reneka! You have to realize that you are not living for yourself anymore and that you can't save the whole world even as a free person!”

Although my feet were aching, I jumped forward on my feet and seized my brother's gaze with my eyes, refusing to blink despite the salty water that kept running down my cheeks. I couldn't bear that Roghart was raising his voice to the level of mockery like my Arvaarad had done. It was a common technique to snap someone back to reality, but I couldn't believe that my own brother was using it against me.

_I cannot go back to that life!_ I wrote barely even looking at the paper. _I cannot go back into believing that there's nothing I can do without someone holding my leash!_

I pushed Roghart and dashed out of the room, slamming the door hard against the wall. Every single one in the hall turned to stare at me, Jethann included. I tried to seek peace in his sapphire eyes, but it only made me cry more. I hated the confusion and intricacy my freedom had brought, causing me to think that I didn't possess any social skills.

Everywhere I looked, someone was calling my name and I couldn't call back. I saw faces with expressions that were mixed with too many emotions and my head was spinning.

As I had told Roghart, I would run if I knew that I wouldn't be able to take care of the situation. My mind spoke the words of an invisibility spell and I vanished in front of all the people around me, leaving them in a joint gasp as I ran out of the Blooming Rose.


	13. New and Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the readers and Bioware!
> 
> And sorry for the hiatus, my new job is taking all my time. Once everything goes smoothly, I'll be able to update more often.

As if I wasn't feeling devastated enough, the sky cried with me. The day had been sunny, but it had changed abruptly the instant I had dashed out of the Blooming Rose. Cloaked with invisibility, I ran through the streets of Hightown, swallowing tears and rain water. I bumped into a city guard who was left baffled and I heard him mutter the word 'magic' in such a voice that made me think that he blamed it for every strange occurrence in his life.

I had no specific destination. Everything seemed alien to me, like I had woken up from a dream and the reality was nothing I had expected it to be. The shouts of the merchants were just slurs of words in my ears and all the citizens looked like clones of each other. My subconscious led me to the right path out of the district and I could focus on not thinking about what had happened.

I was breathing heavily by the time I reached the borders of Lowtown. The invisibility spell wore off and the sickness I had felt in my stomach ever since the encounter with Roghart became unbearable. The way I swayed from exhaustion made it worse and I had to stop, no matter how much I wanted to get as far away from my brothers as possible. I leaned against the slippery wall of a small tavern and right after my legs weren't moving anymore, I bent down and threw up. My face must have looked like a mess with my running nose and tears and now I had to wipe puke on my sleeve, too.

My first instinct was to disappear into the underground, but I refused to regress any closer to the state I had been in before meeting my family. Fleeing from the Blooming Rose had already been a mistake and I didn't wish to make the list any longer. I thought my mother for a second, but I couldn't muster enough courage to face her.

What I needed was a person who didn't cause me to tense up, like Isabela. My hands shook from cold and my clothes were soaking wet.

There was a barrel at the corner of the tavern that had gathered rain water. I staggered to it and didn't even check if the water was clean. I cupped one hand and scooped a couple of mouthfuls, rinsing my mouth before drinking. The chilling liquid reminded me how I had sucked on ice cubes for weeks after my tongue had been cut out.

When two guards walked closer to me, I ran without looking at them, hearing one of them shouting after me. I took a narrow side alley just in case and slowed down when I couldn't hear them anymore. The condition of the buildings around me changed from moderate to shoddy the further I walked and I had no idea where I was. None of the people nor houses I saw looked familiar and I couldn't smell the rotten fish of Lowtown. Instead, the air was filled with the whiff of smoke.

I didn't know about the landmarks of Kirkwall or any names of the streets. The sewers led to the underground tunnels, but I couldn't locate any entrances. As I spun around, wiping my face and trying to find the right direction, an older woman tapped my shoulder and I turned so swiftly that she jumped a little.

“Are you lost, young lady?” she asked carefully. “You certainly seem like it.”

While the whole world around me seemed blurry like an illusion, the old woman made me think of the only place I could name in the whole city at that moment. I squatted and used my index finger to write on the ground.

The woman narrowed her sleepy eyes, looking at the mud and then at me. “Clinic?” she said the word I had written aloud and I nodded. “You mean the Darktown healer?”

I nodded even faster.

“Well, it's not far,” she said and pointed at a larger house behind us. “Once you reach that building, turn left and you should see a ruined mine entrance after half a mile or so. It will lead you to Darktown and there you only need to follow the lamps.”

I grabbed the woman's wrinkly hand and squeezed it, giving her the best smile I could with my dirty face. The grin on her thin lips was the brightest thing I had seen on that awful day and I kept the image in my mind as I made my way to Darktown.

 

#

 

The trip would have given me enough time to think about the events thoroughly, but I didn't use the opportunity to do so. I had no idea why I was walking to the clinic and the whispering voice that tried to direct me to home was too silent for me to hear. People stared at me, but they left me alone when I didn't stare back. All I could concentrate on was to keep my legs moving forward.

When I reached the clinic, the view alerted me. The safe cocoon I had wrapped around myself had been torn apart and I couldn't run farther. The realization gave me strength, but it couldn't overcome the fear I had harbored inside me since the fight with my brother.

I eyed at the closed door, not certain of how to proceed. With a closer glance at my surroundings, I noticed a woman sitting on the ledge beside the stairs I had climbed, smoking a cigarette and humming something. When I took a step towards her, she turned her head and seemed shocked.

“By the Fade, how do you keep getting yourself in such a condition?” she snickered. “You look like shit.”

I realized that I knew her. She had guided me to the Chantry at the night I had come to the clinic in order to apologize to Anders.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “The healer left in a hurry like three days ago with Isabela and all he said to me was that you were in danger. Why is it that you're here but he's not back?”

My eyes blinked in confusion. I squatted and wrote on the dry sand with my wet fingers, ignoring how they trembled from the cold.

_How do you know all this?_ I finished my question.

“Oh, Isabela is a regular customer in need for medicine,” the woman said, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “As for the healer, it's impossible for me not to know about you. It's the only topic he can freely talk about nowadays and which can still make him smile, with all that bullshit about the templars going on.”

I felt a gentle shiver that ran along my spine over and over again, as if the woman's words alone were warming me more than a fireplace ever could. Such excitement was wrong for a Saarebas and I was glad that my body was adjusting to the new life without a collar. The embarrassed grin on my lips was natural and I didn't deny the joy that playfully tickled my skin.

_What is your name?_ I wrote.

The woman shot me a cunning smirk and her eyes narrowed, making me sweat for no reason. “Would you believe if I said I was your second cousin?” she sneered, leaning closer to me.

Her tone was both serious and teasing, like she wanted me to separate the truth from false. The chocolate brown eyes that gazed at me were the kind that could manipulate in such a sweet manner that no-one could blame her for it.

_I'm not sure_ , I slowly wrote, looking at the ground and thinking of how clumsy my answer would have sounded with a voice.

The woman chuckled. “Me neither,” she said and rose up. “I go by many names, but you may call me Solona. I have a feeling that you're the type of person who can keep a simple secret like a name, hm?”

If Anders had told Solona about my history, she had to know of my disability that made me the perfect candidate for the task of not flapping my gums. She seemed wise and strong like Isabela and I couldn't help myself from being drawn towards a person like her. Among the qunari, the policy of striking first and asking questions later was more popular than diplomacy. No wonder I desired the company of people who were the exact opposite.

“The door isn't locked, you know,” Solona said, pointing at the clinic. “Do you want to wait inside? I'll accompany you if you wish.”

The thought of sitting idly while my brothers were most likely looking for me again wasn't appealing, but I didn't know the city and didn't want my mother see me before I had washed my face and dried my clothes. Explaining myself to Anders wasn't going to be any easier, but at least he didn't make me nervous in the same way as my family did.

Warily, I gestured my acceptance and Solona led me inside the clinic. I didn't dare to ask where she lived as I feared that she was homeless. She kept her chin high and the look in her eyes held the wisdom of an old experienced sage. I found no weapons on her and sensed no magic, but if Anders wasn't like other mages because of the spirit of justice, Solona wasn't like other women. I just couldn't figure out why.

The clinic was empty and Solona lit only two of the lamps, gesturing me to sit down and drink some water rather than soak myself more with it. She quickly made a new fire and commanded me to pull my chair closer to it. Unconsciously, I obeyed her as if she was my Arvaarad, but I violently shook the thought away, focusing on the light.

Solona brought me a blanket and as I was getting comfortable, the door opened and Anders stepped inside. All the color escaped from my cheeks for a moment when our gazes met, but I couldn't force my head to turn away no matter how I tried.

The awkward staring contest was broken when Solona strutted towards Anders, her body blocking our sights. “I trust that you can take it from here,” she smirked. “I can't be the main reason that she has wandered through the city all the way to Darktown.”

“When did she...” Anders began, but fell quiet.

I couldn't hear what he murmured nor what Solona whispered to him before leaving the clinic. Whatever it was, it left Anders stunned in a peculiar way. I saw the corners of his mouth rise for a second and he cleared his throat before facing me again, glancing over his shoulder like he was checking that Solona had closed the door.

My brow lifted when Anders stretched out his hand. “I'll get you something that can keep you warm,” he explained.

The mug in my hands was still full when I handed it to the healer. With a rushed pace, he disappeared into the room behind the clinic and I dropped the blanket off my shoulders. I disliked how I looked and thanked the gods that there were no mirrors nearby to show me a clearer image than the one I pictured in my mind.

Sleep tempted me again but Anders' return revitalized me and I gave him a curious smile. He was carrying two mugs which were better crafted than the one Solona had given me. After receiving mine, I examined the engraving of a dragon on the wood and stroked the smooth, round handle with care. It was a piece of fine art that screamed of love that had been invested to it. Never before had I drank from a container that would be more beautiful.

I looked at Anders and made a gesture of writing. He sat down on a bench close to my chair and took a piece of paper and coal from one of his belt pouches. When he muttered something about a pad to write on, I swiftly shook my hand and put the paper on my lap.

_Did you make these?_ I wrote slowly.

Anders laughed. “I don't know anything of woodcraft. These are from Sonya, the one who just left.”

I was about to make a question, but curled my fingers and grinned instead. Solona had many names and I assumed that the one I was aware of was her real name, because I wouldn't be able to blurt it out. I also believed that Anders knew, but it was safer for me not to ask.

_Could have fooled me_ , I chuckled as I wrote and inspected the dark red liquid inside the mug.

“Really?” Anders glanced at the handwork. “Damn, I should have taken the opportunity to claim all the honor to myself then. What a waste.”

Although Anders' voice was enough to make me forget the recent unpleasant memories, I got the feeling that the healer expected something from me, like he couldn't stay still in my presence until the issue had been dealt with.

_You want to talk about it?_ I scribed.

“If you don't wish to, then no,” Anders said and took a sip of his drink. “This is Fereldan wine, straight from the hidden cellars of the Circle Tower. The templars sure like to keep all the good stuff to themselves.”

I brought the mug close to my nose and smelled the sweet aroma of cinnamon and apples. The Saarebas' were allowed to drink alcohol if it was given to them, but without a tongue my sense of taste was almost nonexistent. All the beers I had ever drank had tasted awful and the qunari refused to waste another pint if a Saarebas couldn't keep the first one inside.

I remembered the warmth alcohol caused and it made me drink the wine. As soon as the first mouthful ran down my throat, I stirred from the sensation of heat. The ingredients left traces of taste in my mouth and I was surprised of how good I thought the wine was. Before even realizing it, my hand lifted the mug to my lips and I took another gulp.

The warmth relaxed my body and cleared my mind. Anders stayed silent and I appreciated the fact that he didn't force me to do anything, but I had made the decision to run and accept the consequences later. Now was the time to take another step, because leaving the matters as they were would only result in bitterness and confusion. Anders had understood me before and I trusted him to do so again.

“Invisibility is a tough spell,” Anders suddenly said, staring at the fire for a while before turning his gaze at me. “Did the qunari teach you that?”

I didn't mind his question and wrote, _Not really. I figured it out on my own._

“That's unusual,” the healer sounded impressed. “It's not common for a mage to discover such a strong spell without some guidance.”

_The qunari mages can cast a teleportation spell_ , I explained. _I altered it so that my body wouldn't automatically move after disappearing. By spending more mana, the spell lasts longer._

When I met Anders' concentrated eyes, I felt strange explaining my magic to him. In my opinion, all my spells were inferior compared to his healing abilities. No matter how many times I would strike someone with lightning, he was able to close the wounds and efface the bruises. I knew I was powerful and my magic had helped me greatly, yet I felt incomplete.

Anders leaned back, the cup enclosed in his hands and resting on his legs. “I had no idea how advanced the qunari were in terms of magic. Not that I'm admiring them,” he quickly added, looking at me with concern like I was in serious pain.

_I wouldn't say advanced_ , I wrote. _The qunari are afraid of magic, which is why their mages are collared and some have-_

My writing hand stopped instantly when Anders gently grabbed it, causing my heart to race pleasantly. I couldn't tell whether the red on my cheeks was of embarrassment or from the wine.

“I am aware of their culture, Reneka,” he said softly. “There's no need for you to recall such harrowing memories.”

The faint smile on my lips was a thankful one and I drew two lines on top of the sentence I hadn't finished. I took a moment to form the words in my head and wrote, _I have always been leashed and controlled by someone else. When I finally had the chance to act of my own free will, Roghart disapproved which is why I snapped._

Anders only listened and I waited before continuing, _I didn't mean to run. I just had no idea how to answer after what I had heard._

“I can hardly blame you,” Anders said. “You are at an obvious disadvantage during any quarrel.”

I nodded and cracked a smile. Words were powerful only when spoken aloud. The emotions in my voice were muted and had Roghart heard the agony that edged my statements, maybe he would have backed off.

“Which reminds me,” Anders stirred eagerly, “I told you that I have something that could help you a great deal. It would be highly useful in situations where you can't write your thoughts down.”

My interest was peaked and I valued Anders' initiative in changing the subject. I played with the thought that he did it for me, but personally I could have discussed about a thousand other topics instead of the experience I went through with the qunari.

After he had put our empty mugs away, he raised his hand and let me observe closely as he made various gestures and signs. The shadows danced on his skin and such simple movements were embellished by the light of the golden flames I could see through his fingers.

I had no clue what Anders meant and patiently looked to be informed of the true purpose behind his lovely act. He noticed my tilted head and slowly batting eyes and evidently laughed at my reaction.

“I used sign language to speak your name,” he said. “However, it's not an universal dialect and few even know of it, but I could teach you and you may teach the language to your family if you wish.”

My surprise resulted in an awkward gasp and I tried to gesture that it hadn't been intentional. I almost tore the paper when I quickly grabbed it and modestly wrote _You would do such a great service for me?_

“Definitely,” Anders answered without hesitation. “But I must ask that you won't reveal this language to the templars. You could call it Mages' Cant, which wasn't my idea. The point is that only some selected mages can speak it, so you can see why teaching it to a templar could be quite harmful for the people they hunt.”

In order to assure a person that he could place his trust in me, I always held the both sides of that person's right hand, my thumbs pressing the skin tenderly. I did the same to Anders and while holding his hand, I examined the eyes of the deviant man who made me feel abnormally unfulfilled whenever I called him a friend. My fingers desired to clutch around his palm and only his gaze both shackled and liberated me. He was the only person I didn't have any neutral nor bad feelings about. All I sensed while being with him was constant delight and safety and not even the spirit inside him could affect that.

After I unwillingly released my grip, Anders coughed nervously and gave a short, quiet laugh. “Perhaps you don't have to replace all of your signs and gestures with Mages' Cant,” he kept turning his hand and stroke the spots where my thumbs had been. “I could honestly get used to this.”

In a jovial manner, I shoved Anders and we both laughed without being restrained, a sensation that had been a rare treat for me for so many nights and days.

 

#

 

“Almost, but not quite,” Anders sneered. “Here, watch again.”

My shoulders slumped from disappointment at myself, but the lust for learning Mages' Cant incited me to keep trying. I kept my head clear of negative thoughts and paid attention as Anders signed the message again, his hands moving a lot slower this time. The words he signed one letter at a time I could mostly decipher, but I couldn't figure what it meant when he drew some kind of a symbol in the air for example.

I shrugged and tried to make the expression that would have indicated I couldn't translate Anders' sentence.

Instead of shaking his head, the healer smiled and repeated the signs he guessed I couldn't read. “These mean 'mission' and 'to think'. When used in this context, the final statement becomes a question: _What do you think of the mission?_ ”

After saying the words in my head first, I signed a short response, _We be careful_.

Anders grinned and I immediately figured that I had made a mistake. My irritated face must have caused him to quickly erase the amusement off his lips and he began to expound the terms we had used.

Although I had focused all my energy on studying the Mages' Cant, I hadn't swept the other matters under the rug. My back was aching from sleeping on a hard piece of wood Varric had mockingly called a bed in a common room of the Hanged Man. For the last couple of days my dreams had been tormented with guilt and confusion. The longer I stayed away from mother, the tougher it became to return to her. No enemy had ever drained me of my courage as effectively as my family did. I owed no explanation to my enemies and while the confrontation against them would be quick and bloody, I was more afraid of the sustained and sweaty one that was undoubtedly waiting for me.

I sensed that Isabela was staring at me and when I looked at the pirate, she sneered slyly and slowly averted her gaze. There was no proper method in the world to make her believe that not a single one of the vulgar acts she had in her mind had happened during the time I had spent away from home. I knew she would assume whatever she liked and I wasn't stupid enough to be provoked and play her game.

“Can you please continue after we are done and focus on the job?” Roghart's acerbic voice said suddenly, causing me to flinch.

“Stop teasing her, Hawke,” Isabela snorted as she calmly ambled beside my brother, her arms lifted behind her head. “I'm sure she gets that you're still mad at her.”

“Solving our problems can wait until the mission is over,” Roghart spat without even glancing at me. “I'd like to catch some sleep for once, so let's meet this Sister Petrice and see what she's got for us. The sooner the better.”

I wanted to tell my brother how his attitude was getting on my nerves, but it had been my choice not to take any writing tools with me. Without any other means to communicate, I had believed that would provide me a good amount of motivation to hasten my learning process. I was still miles away from perfecting the Mages' Cant, but even Sonya had praised me when I had visited Anders' clinic the day before our current job. Strolling in the city at night suited me well, but the pregnant air between me and Roghart made it hard for me to actually relax. My only solace was the absence of any other family members.

As we neared the district of Gamlen's house, my fingertips twitched and I rubbed my neck in an attempt to hide my hand despite not having long, thick curtain of hair like Isabela. I smelled something rotten and the wind blew strongly enough to toss pieces of garbage all over the dirt road. No-one else than us seemed to be awake, but I still held my breath and avoided stepping on anything that might have made a noise.

Roghart stopped and eyed at the buildings before he pointed at a rusty door. “That looks like the place,” he stated and marched forward.

“Yeah,” Isabela scoffed. “It's got that feeling of certain death about it. Has to be our door then.”

My brother kept silent and proceeded to knock. I could hear the leather of his glove gritting as he made a fist, like he was going to punch his way through. To my surprise, he inhaled deep and treated the door gently by knocking slowly.

It was opened instantly and a short-haired woman gestured us to hurry inside. My nose touched Roghart's back as we were pushed and pulled and I retreated once the fuss was over only to see a templar with an unsheathed sword.

I gasped and a panicked flame ignited inside me. However, my sight was blocked when Roghart stepped in front of me like a shield, leaving me quite puzzled as the tension grew.

“No need for that, Ser Varnell,” Petrice said, waving her hand. “They are here to help me.”

“Yes, you really should put that thing away,” Anders growled.

Varnell squinted his eyes for a moment before he complied. I expected him to begin a rant about working with mages, but instead he folded his arms and stood like a statue, mute and immobile. I displayed my distrust by frowning, yet he gave me no response.

“I apologize for him,” Petrice chirped and glanced at me and Anders. “I see some new faces. My name is Sister Petrice and this is my bodyguard, Ser Varnell. I'm thankful that you have come.”

“Reneka is my sister,” Roghart introduced me. “I'm sure you know about Anders here.”

Petrice snickered. “Everyone does.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Anders lifted his brow.

“You are with Hawke, so no. In fact, what I ask of you also involves something you are quite familiar with.”

I blinked at Anders and he just shrugged. The fire I had felt was still burning and until I knew more, it wasn't going to be extinguished.

“I need you to smuggle a package out of the city for me,” Petrice said. “An acquaintance of mine will be waiting for you at the Wounded Coast and he will pay you a half of the reward. Once it's done, return to me and I'll give you the other half.”

“It must be quite a package if it requires this kind of planning and secrecy,” Roghart said, looking at both the Sister and the templar.

“It is,” Petrice smirked and nodded at Ser Varnell who disappeared into the next room.

Each one of us was prepared to strike back in case of betrayal. I could sense the mana flowing in Anders' veins and Isabela was curling her fingers. My brother had assumed a pose ideal for evading an incoming blow. His right foot was closer to me and I could estimate in which direction he would dash if there was going to be a fight.

As I counted the seconds the templar was away, I listened to the odd noises. There was definitely a familiar sound of a heavy chain chinking as it was dragged on the floor and lifted. When Varnell walked, I was abashed of hearing other footsteps that didn't belong to him. They were lot heftier and the owner didn't wear a heavy armor in addition to the chain that kept clinking. My hand moved closer to the pocket that held the shards of red lyrium at the same pace as the sounds increased.

When Ser Varnell finally showed himself and the package, my blood ran cold. I stared with such open eyes that I wouldn't have been shocked if they had popped out. My teeth were clenched so tight that it hurt, but I had to force myself not to yelp. The hand that had reached the pocket was petrified and the chills on my skin made me believe that someone had frozen the whole room.

I wasn't the only one who was stunned and speechless. Anders had taken a swift step closer to me and Isabela had stooped down a bit, like a cat ready to jump at her enemies. Roghart had grabbed the handle of his sword and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he glared like an angered beast.

“Please, do not be so hostile,” Sister Petrice pleaded. “He has cooperated with us so far, showing no sign of struggle.”

I looked at the package that had turned out to be a qunari and he looked back at me. Neither of us could tear our gazes away. Even behind his high collar, I saw how the qunari's stitched lips parted a little. The eye holes of his golden mask wept blood and the chains hanging from his neck seemed a lot heavier than I remembered.

_They are here_ , I thought in horror.

“This is but one example of the disgusting things the qunari do to their people,” Petrice said in a pitying voice. “All he wants is to be free and I want to help him to achieve that.”

The qunari kept staring at me and I was certain that he hadn't forgotten about me. I certainly hadn't.

“I call him 'Ketojan',” Petrice added. “A bridge between worlds.”

_You're wrong_ , I spoke in my mind. _His name is Coin. A Saarebas of my tribe._

 


	14. Our Last Stand Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to BioWare and the readers!
> 
> My, look at that hiatus. I really intend to bring this story to its conclusion, so don't worry. I realized that the first chapter was written in March last year, so it would be nice to have the first act complete for that anniversary. That means five more chapters out of the total 20 I have planned for the Act I. I have also promised myself to finish part of the first draft of my own novel, so I apologize if this story suffers from the busy schedule. Thank you for all the support, it really motivates me!

The sound of oxygen filling and exiting my lungs was all I could hear while Coin kept looking at me. I was aware of other people talking around me, but their words only formed jumbled background noise. I couldn't even tell apart who was speaking in a raised voice and who was trying to calm things down. My entire focus was on the Saarebas in front of me.

Coin's eyes couldn't be seen through his mask, but his face showed emotions I couldn't describe. Pain? Disgust? Relief? Though I had no idea why would he be relieved to see me again.

“What makes you think that I'd agree to anger the Arishok by doing something like this?” Roghart growled, catching my attention. “This qunari has to be from his flock, right?”

I whipped my head at my brother, shocked to hear how familiar he seemed to be with the matter. The fact that the Arishok was in the same city as me had already threw a hard punch against my face. By keeping it a secret from me, Roghart might as well have struck my other cheek.

The tangled mess in my belly twisted even more when I realized that Roghart couldn't have been the only one who had known. Whether it was due to pure fear of the topic or my carelessness, I hadn't heard any news of the qunari during the time I had spent in the underground. However, my brothers, Isabela and even Anders couldn't have lived in the city without any knowledge of the horned beasts. The idea of even Jethann hiding such crucial information from me made me sad.

Roghart may have been trying to protect me, but his decision had been a wrong one. I would only be protected if I knew exactly where my enemies were based.

Petrice cocked her head and smirked. “It's what 'the Hawke' does in Kirkwall,” she replied. “Helping the innocent and the weak is your job. You have changed the city more than you'll ever know and aiding Ketojan is a huge step towards the largest ordeal the city must face.”

“What ordeal?” Isabela scoffed.

“That the qunari can and must be opposed. No-one can blame Ketojan for wanting to be free and only you can be discreet enough to grant that wish to him. By releasing him from the influence of his clan, the people of Kirkwall will see the cruelty of his kin and we will have a common goal to achieve. It's not a lot, but we must work towards what is right.”

It was an obvious trap, but I was more interested in the mystery of encountering Coin than the details of the Sister's scheme. Coin I knew wouldn't hesitate to protect his tribe, yet there he was, alone and separated from the others. There had been moments when Coin had actually rejected a direct order, though he had always been aware of the consequences of his actions. The harder I thought about it, the more inexplicable his presence became.

As I slowly eyed Coin again, a thought occurred to me. Out of all the possible words to depict the aura around the Saarebas, there was one I had dodged on purpose because I would never equate him with it: weakness.

My lips parted a little as I tried to put the pieces together. Coin evaded humiliating situations, forcing himself to break every limit a mage should follow in order not to turn into a corrupted abomination. Out of all the Saarebas of my tribe, he had been the strongest. I had never witnessed him running out of mana and every new scar on his body boosted his power. If he had no time to cast a spell, he let his huge fists to take control and his bloodlust was as fierce as any qunari soldier's. I had seen him rip a branch from a tree and beat an enemy to death with it.

My knowledge of Coin told me that he had a proper reason to be in the same room with a human templar and a Chantry sister. I had nothing but hate to show to the qunari, but Coin and the other Saarebas' had been my only family during my years of imprisonment. He may not have sought me out specifically, but he must have been looking for something.

I tapped Anders' shoulder and he turned around, starting to call my name before I stopped him and signed, _We go._ Then I pointed at Coin and repeated my message.

“Are you certain?” Anders asked, his voice full of uneasiness. “After what you've told me, I'd say the last thing we should do is to wander around with a qunari.”

_I know him_ , I attempted to explain and signed Coin's name to Anders. The way Coin observed the Mages' Cant made me believe for a moment that he understood it and I felt awkward correcting the mistakes I did with his name.

Surprisingly, Anders didn't protest aloud, but worry had painted his face and all I could do in response was to keep looking him in the eye and not show any hesitation. When it became evident that I wasn't going to lose the staring contest, Anders sighed silently and rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly not approving my plan.

_Not care about her_ , I clumsily signed as I quickly tried to clarify my point.  _I have to help Coin._

Anders met my serious gaze again, but he seemed a bit more relaxed. “Hawke,” he turned to my brother, “we should be the ones to solve this. At least then the Arishok wouldn't have the whole city to blame.”

Roghart glared at both Anders and me, but his look was softer than earlier, like he now considered us even because both of us had erred in our actions.

“I agree,” Isabela added. “The situation could get quite ugly if we let some random bunch of greedy mercenaries handle this.”

“I know,” Roghart spat and glanced at Coin with overflowing doubt.

“So we have a deal then?” Petrice chirped.

“Yes.”

“Good. You can use the trap door in the next room to access the underground warrens where there are no guards and I won't be linked to this.” As Petrice was heading back to her bodyguard, she stopped to grin at us over her shoulder and said, “Good luck.”

 

#

 

Not even the barren tunnels of the underground could erase the last image I had of Petrice. Her almost mocking sneer wasn't the only factor why I assumed her intentions weren't anything good. Helping a Saarebas to escape his tribe wouldn't produce anything positive for neither party. I would have most likely been the main target of my tribe's pursuit had Isabela not stolen the Tome of Koslun. The qunari were relentless and didn't easily give up something valuable to them. No doubt the tribe wouldn't waste weapons and armor on retrieving Coin, their strongest mage who didn't need red lyrium to turn whole villages upside down.

Our journey was a quiet one. Coin had stopped staring at me and calmly walked close to my brother, clenching the hanging chains to reduce their clanking noise. Isabela had made every effort to enlighten the mood, but even she had her limit when no-one responded in laughter. In my opinion, she was awfully intimidating when silent. Nothing would distract her from sneaking behind an enemy and slice their throats in an instant. The general aura surrounding us all could be described as dangerous. One misjudgment was enough to cause any of us to jump and attack, ally or not.

Just when I had finished my thought, there was a touch on my shoulder which made me take a hasty step forward and spin around. Not even Anders seemed surprised of my reaction.

“Are you really fine with this?” he whispered, his eyes targeting Coin.

_He and others were good,_ I tried to explain with as few gestures as possible.

“By others I assume you mean the mages of the tribe.”

I nodded and although Anders shone of uncertainty an unconvinced person possessed, he didn't continue the conversation. How I felt about the Saarebas compared to their masters was not a topic I could clarify to Anders during a stroll. The fact that he cared delighted me and perhaps one day he'd be the first to hear the full story of my past. As Anders kept his distance from Coin and watched my back behind me, I trusted him more than my own family. Oddly enough, such a thought didn't bother me at all.

Roghart halted and raised his balled hand to make us do the same. I peeked past Coin and saw a group of armed men glaring at us right next to the underground exit we had planned to take. Their leader with thick red mustache gestured one of his companions to follow him as he slowly walked to us, a pompous grin on his ugly face. Everything about the group reeked of illegal activity.

“I think you have taken the wrong path, my friends,” he snorted and I noticed his right hand was positioned like Isabela's, ready to draw a dagger.

My brother smirked and he didn't take a battle stance, as if he was making fun of the outlaws. “Pretty sure this is where our map led us, unless there's another less crowded way out of the city through the underground?”

The leader realized that he was being challenged and he quickly glimpsed at his men to ensure they didn't take Roghart's bait. “So, a smart one eh?” he said in an offended voice. “Let's make this simple then: either you get out of my sight or blood will flow.”

“Sure thing,” Roghart said with a shrug. “So I suggest that you move your ass and let us through.”

I knew Roghart was still upset with me. I couldn't figure another reason for his unnecessary threats. He acted as pissed as a cat that had been tossed in a large bucket of water after a good nap.

Or maybe I didn't know my family at all. Maybe I understood Anders and Isabela more than the people whose blood I shared.

When I looked at the annoyed leader, it wasn't his animalistic gaze that stirred me, but the change in his pose. I stood beside Coin, though the gap of empty space between us was quite large and the mustache man had stealthily moved an inch too close to me. I couldn't have been the only one who had observed him, but the situation prevented me from taking a look at Coin and see his reaction. My eyes had to be on the man.

The grin on his lips was persistent as he swayed towards Coin. His right foot was still in my territory and he could throw himself at me easily. I dared to quickly glance at Coin, but more time was required to read his expression. The mask made it even more difficult for me.

“Your pet here doesn't scare me, just so you know,” the man snarled as he scanned the Saarebas before he shifted to look at Isabela. A long moment passed until he found the willpower not to gape at the pirate's chest any longer and when his eyes rolled to look at me, my nose wrinkled at the sight of his hungry, beastly stare.

“I wonder if your allies are as fearless as you claim to be,” the leader spoke the words to my face. “Or are you willing to risk their lives to feed your pride?”

Coin took a small step forward, his chains letting out an eerie chink. The sound reminded me of a qunari executor's blade being unsheathed, ready to pass on the judgment. It would be somewhere on the top of a list of the most terrifying sounds a person could produce if I had to assemble one. The noise had always been related to something final and Coin's low growl and flexed muscles were no less intimidating. I couldn't tell exactly what had angered him, but Coin had most definitely raised his guard up and I sensed the magic boiling inside him. No matter how hard I fought not to recall some events in the past, he caused me to see the battlefield again. The pieces of corpses exploded by the power of red lyrium were clear as a yesterday's memory in my mind again. I concentrated to erase the vision, but instead it was replaced with an image of Coin, surrounded in a magical aura and his burnt victims piled all around his huge figure.

“Uh, boss,” the leader's comrade said carefully. “I think the horn-head doesn't like you insulting his masters.”

“Oh, is that right?” the ugly man turned to Coin. “This pretty one here is your master?”

Although I wasn't going to make the error of slapping the man, my hand rose slowly as a reflex. The irritation that had warmed my body was struck back when all of a sudden there was a glinting blade across my throat. My breathing stopped, like I was playing dead while standing up.

“Cancel your spell if you don't wish to spend the rest of the day mopping your friend's blood off the ground,” the leader commanded Anders when the air around his palm started to swirl with freezing energy. The edge of his dagger brushed my skin as he glared at Roghart and Isabela. “Don't think even for a second that you would be faster than me.”

_Do as he says_ , I wanted to tell the others, but only because I looked for a better opportunity to escape and counterattack. As I watched my brother clenching his fist and Anders' squinting, I also heard how the leader's armored leather glove had stopped gritting. To me, it meant that he wasn't squeezing the grip of his weapon so firmly anymore. If his arm moved even a little further away from me, I could duck and get out of his range. My plan was going to work if nothing alerted the mustache man.

He sneered at Coin, who hadn't shown any sign of retreat nor combat readiness. “You want to be free, don't you?” the leader asked quietly. “Let me grant you your well-earned freedom, my friend.”

With no warning, the man was hit by a strong magical force and sent flying. The loud low boom of the spell caused my ears to ring for a second after it had been cast right beside me. I saw Coin's spread fingers, shaking as an after-effect of casting magic so abruptly.

“You fucker!” the leader yelled as he scrambled up. “Kill them! All of them!”

“Reneka, get behind me!” Roghart ordered while drawing his sword and I happily complied.

“Leave the lesser boys to me, Rogue,” Isabela said and shot a glance at me and Anders. “Keep the archers off us!”

I counted five melee fighters and three men with longbows, two of which who were already aiming their arrows at Coin. Distracting them was the priority in my opinion, but when I began to evoke the flames of a fireball, I was interrupted by a heavy hand that grabbed my shoulder. My spell was aborted and the archers fired at us, but the same hand that had stopped me was raised to greet the whistlers of death with a barrier that blocked the attack.

Coin released me when the shield he had erected vanished and grunted. My guess was that he was still being bound by an Arvaarad and thus couldn't speak properly, but when he pointed at the archer who was the closest to him, I figured he had picked his target and wished for us to eliminate the others.

Anders seemed confused, but his concentration was quickly fixed when the bows were about to be reloaded. He launched a chilling sphere at his opponent and I prepared to teleport myself. Anders' stunned gasp was the last sound I heard before time slowed around me and I felt my body being pulled at high speed. The archer next to the man Anders had frozen was still in the middle of aiming when I appeared right in front of him. He was left staggered and I blasted him with a similar shock wave Coin had created earlier. The force snapped the arrow in two and the archer was separated from his weapon.

Disoriented, he shook his head and drew a dagger from its scabbard behind his back. Clearly the man wasn't made for the melee combat, but I treated him as a warrior like my brothers were. With no armor on, I tried to mimic Isabela's movements she often exploited against raining blows. Enemies always underestimated her and hoped to cut her bare limbs, but Isabela dodged most of the attacks and made it seem like dancing.

I wasn't Isabela nor as nimble as a cat, but memorizing the patterns helped me evade the first thrusts when my opponent charged. He was better than I had expected and more courageous than his leader. Although he was unsure with a dagger in his hand, he didn't let it put him at disadvantage. On the contrary, the man leaked of determination and his instinct of survival was strong.

My moment of admiration was brutally shattered when I hadn't taken note of our environment and the possibilities for dirty fighting it supplied before it was too late. A handful of sand was flung into my eyes and the sudden blindness stripped me of my guard. I wobbled a few steps back and heard my name in Anders' voice. Listening to him and not the rustling ahead of me was a serious lapse from an experienced fighter like myself.

Without my sight, I could only pick a random direction. I protected my throat by pressing my chin against my chest and jumped to my right. I hadn't forgotten that we were fighting on a higher ground near the underground exit, but one meter fall was the least of my worries. Distress cost me speed and the bandit managed to gash my shoulder, missing the collarbone by an inch or two. I cried from pain and covered the wound under my palm as I rolled off the platform, shivering from both the heat of the injury and rage. I was mad at myself for being a fool and embarrassed that Coin had to witness it. He had accepted me as a member of the tribe only because I had proved my ability.

My body hit the ground, but I bit my lip and quickly got on my feet when the enemy jumped after me, his weapon ready to be swung in an arc. He hit the empty air where I had been and the stinging in my wound caused me to grimace. I created a gap between me and the bandit, breathing hard as I glared at him and the men Roghart was battling against with Isabela. Only the leader and two of his fighters were left, plus the archer I had faced.

I turned my gaze and was puzzled to find Coin at my side. All my senses had been used to watch the archer who was searching for a weak spot in order to begin his attack, so I hadn't detected the qunari despite his heavy chains. My confused stare moved from Coin's face to his arm when he extended it and a ball of lightning started to crackle on top of his hand. He didn't complete the spell, just waited silently and glanced at me.

“Ah!” a weird sound came from my mouth when I perceived Coin's plan. I let go of my shoulder and followed Coin's lead. Our stances were exactly the same and our spells were cast in harmony. The lightning formed a circle of bright light, too intense to be gazed upon.

Usually, such a powerful spell was impossible to target on specific individuals, but two Saarebas mages were more than sufficient to bend that rule. Our fused energy made the archer gasp in horror and I intended him to be the first to taste it. As Coin raised his arm, I copied him and bolts of burning thunder struck the remaining enemies, silencing their shrieks beneath the rumbling noise. Roghart grabbed Isabela and pulled her back and I could hardly blame him. Spells that affected a destined area couldn't be ordered not to affect the possible allies. Mages rarely cast magic other than rituals in groups, so everyone's shocked expression was to be expected.

Once the spell was over, there was nothing else left of the bandits than corpses, hissing from severe burns or blood streaming from their cuts even after death. Coin relaxed and so did I, though it only meant that I was reminded of the pain. My torn shirt from where I had been injured must have alerted Anders as he was the first one to approach me and Coin in haste.

“Maker's balls, what was _that_?” Isabela said, sheathing her daggers with suspicion, like she couldn't believe the fight had been finished.

I gestured Anders to stop and showed him the bright greenish glow I had summoned. The light was warm and when it touched my wound, it hurt as little as a mosquito bite. I healed slowly because of my inexperience, but I liked to think that I had learned well. The earnest look Anders gave me enhanced my thought and I proudly inspected the pale scar that was left behind as a reminder of how I had improved as a mage.

Roghart waited until I wasn't bleeding anymore before frowning at Coin. “A little warning would be nice the next time you decide to start a fight,” he growled.

“Disapprove if you want, but he saved Reneka,” Anders stated. “Besides, you were the one who set the stage in the first place.”

Coin was still unable to speak, so I couldn't get answers from him. The Saarebas' often looked out for each other because they had no-one else, not for personal reasons. I wasn't a member of the tribe anymore and Coin had no obligation to protect me. When I was young, he had despised me the most, though he had been too proud to ever express his opinions. Life as a qunari mage was all he had known and serving loyally was the only way to stay alive for his kind.

_Why did you protect me?_ I asked with no voice.

Roghart sighed, mumbling to himself as he walked to the exit. He had witnessed me in an all-out battle before, but I realized the first fact he knew about my strength was that it had come with a price. I wouldn't be able to change his point of view and making him imagine himself in my place would only color the brand of doubt he had marked me with.

There was a soft pat on my back from Anders as he passed me with an encouraging smile. He and Coin required no convincing, but I wasn't going to leave the people without arcane arts to dark. My power was too alien to dress into words, so I had to master the skill of display if I wished for my family to believe in my own independence.

It's not like I had the tools to give an in-depth lecture anyway.

 

#

 

Seeing the sunlight lifted my spirits, but only for a short moment. In the distance, I could already detect an unknown group we were not expecting. The underground path had led us to a small cave at the Wounded Coast and Coin was the first one to halt abruptly when our feet landed on the hard rock and the wind from the sea hit our clothes, causing them to flap restlessly. If not for Coin's chinking chains, I would have sat down to enjoy the serenity.

I narrowed my eyes and gasped when I identified the tall, red-tattooed soldiers as qunari. My speed dropped instantly, but I was pushed from behind. After picking whether or not I should avert my gaze from the qunari, I looked up over my shoulder and saw Coin's stern face underneath his mask. He leered at the soldiers, but something about it indicated humility.

“What should we do, Rogue?” Isabela asked, her fingers curling anxiously.

“Is that a serious question?” Roghart snorted and marched forward. “We have three mages among us. If they take even one wrong glimpse of my sister, they're dead.”

Although everyone had known about the qunari in Kirkwall, none had any idea that they were my tribe. I hadn't specified them even to Isabela, which made me understand the harmful side of my secret. Roghart was going to shield me from every qunari he would come across if I didn't clarify my past to him, which would inevitably lead to many misunderstandings and needless bloodbaths.

The forgiveness I felt quickly turned into burning hate when we got closer to the qunari and it was Coin's Arvaarad who took a step to us. The warriors under his command had their arms folded, but I knew better than to assume their relaxed posture would give us more time to react first.

Coin stopped in front of me and growled, like he wanted me to stay in cover. I sensed how lyrium was swirling inside him, though his aura was defensive. Anders hadn't let go of his staff since we got out of the underground and I noted his white knuckles.

Without delay, the Arvaarad dug out Coin's control and pointed him with it. I stirred like a threatened fox, but Coin remained as immobilized as a trained mabari waiting for its reward.

Was this what Coin had waited for? To be leashed again?

The Arvaarad spotted me through the visor of his helmet and gnarled in a deep, quiet voice. “By bringing these two runaways to me, either you have been harboring them or you are merely after a bag of coin,” he looked around before setting his eyes on Roghart.

My brother scoffed. “I wouldn't take your coin even if you offered. What you intend to do with the qunari is not my concern, but handing him or Reneka over to the qunari was not what I agreed on. I've smuggled this package out of the city and how he survives from now on doesn't involve us any longer.”

“You talk like you're familiar with our companions,” Isabela suddenly said.

“I am the Arvaarad, the handler, of this Saarebas,” the qunari declared and waved the control rod at me. “The human one is not my responsibility, but I have the authority to watch over them both until we have returned to the tribe.”

“'Watch over'?” Anders spat, clearly figuring out the true meaning behind the words. “You're a fool if you think we will let you.”

The Arvaarad lowered his arm and faced Coin. “Saarebas!” he shouted. “Show me where your loyalties lie! Show me that you know your place and still serve the Qun!”

While it was shocking, I wasn't too abashed when Coin fell on his knees with resolution and refused to meet his Arvaarad's eyes. His faithfulness vexed me, but it made me wonder if I would have behaved the same had I been born and raised as a qunari Saarebas. There was some kind of uncertainty in Coin's movements, however. He hadn't opened his fists and while he didn't look up, he kept glancing the ground, like a child who was trying to find ants.

“See?” the Arvaarad unmistakably targeted me with his smug sneer. “A good soldier of the Qun understands.”

“Does he even have a choice?” Anders didn't bother to conceal his wrath while speaking.

“Mages are not people, so they do not choose anything,” the qunari tensed, the leather belts holding his shoulder pads gritting as he moved dangerously close. “He has no other life than being a tool and he must always remember that he will never be anything more.”

I didn't like to admit it, but when I felt the presence of Justice for a second, it frightened me and I wanted to tell Anders he shouldn't fall to the enemy's provocation. Of course a fight couldn't be evaded, but I had fought while being consumed by all the wrong emotions. It was a state of mind I didn't wish Anders to have, especially not him. Selfish or not, I wasn't going to let him become as weak as I had been, when everything and everyone I couldn't explain had ended up burning in the flames I had conjured. After learning healing magic and having more to live for than survival, I had changed and my happiness was not going to be tainted by watching the people I cared about take the incorrect turn at the crossroads.

Putting my hand on his right arm that gripped his weapon was the only way I thought I could calm Anders. My fingertips had barely touched the sleeve of his jacket when he swiftly buried my hand under his without looking. I felt something jump inside me from the sudden reflex, but Anders seemed to ease up and his intense breathing turned into composed inhales. The situation induced such comfort in me that I forgot about the qunari and the stare of death the Arvaarad was giving me.

“I am no fool,” the qunari handler hissed. “You are a Saarebas like her and I will take you all to be executed. It is all you bas deserve.”

“If it's blood you're after, you should have only said so from the beginning!” Roghart bellowed and drew his sword, striking the sand where the Arvaarad would have stood had he not evaded in time.

The Arvaarad hollowed in his language, commanding his men to either capture or kill the mages while dealing with the rest. I quickly approached Coin, but he grunted from pain as the Arvaarad bound him with the control rod. I launched a flaming spell at the qunari, hoping that it would dispel the effect. The Arvaarad dodged and put the rod away behind his back, making it even harder to release Coin. His long greatsword had too much reach and I didn't dare to go into a melee with him.

It angered me to think that one simple toy was able to disarm a person of his ability to fight back. As the collar choked Coin and suppressed his magic, he gazed at me and the soldiers, like he wanted me to concentrate.

I ducked when one of the qunari threw a spear at me, although the weapon was stopped early by Anders' barrier. He cursed at my attacker and set him ablaze, not caring to hasten his death before targeting another warrior who was clutching two javelins prepared to be flung in the air.

Seeking for a vulnerable opponent, I spoke a spell in my mind and laid my eyes on the qunari who was about to charge Isabela. The pirate captain was already holding three beasts at bay, so her brief smirk at me was more than thankful when I caught the qunari inside a spiritual cage that inflicted only pain to its victim.

A clash of blades caused me to spin around to encounter the Arvaarad who battled against Roghart, his immense strength gradually pushing my brother back. The Saarebas handler was capable of fighting any sort of enemy and his unnaturally fast movements made it tedious for me to aim my spells. A cut Roghart got on his side didn't help me at all and I started to search for other options to assist him.

Coin's control rod was in my sight, but the Arvaarad would chop me into pieces of meat before I could get near him. The item hanged from its leather holster and wishing for it to drop was as unlikely as hearing a cry of surrender from a qunari. The Arvaarad was too large to be frozen and thus slowed down. Watching Roghart block a swing after a swing, I knew I had wavered too long and had to snatch the rod despite the risks.

When my brother managed to hold the qunari still by pinning the creature's sword down, I rapidly drew a small symbol in front of me and glared at the ground beneath the Arvaarad's feet. Closing my eyes was necessary in order to focus and I was lucky I hadn't been disturbed until the spell was ready. My arm made an arc towards the qunari and a single triggering word in my head produced a glyph shimmering in green under the target.

The Arvaarad staggered, disoriented and the glyph activated. It flashed and the qunari was left gaping in rage when the spell paralyzed him. Roghart needed a moment to comprehend the situation, but I dashed as soon as the Arvaarad's limbs didn't move. I grabbed the control rod and exited the qunari's space with a hurry, not trusting my skills in such magic to lightly walk around him.

Coin forced his chin up, ignoring the pressure that tormented every motion a Saarebas might attempt to perform under the influence of a control rod. In my hands, the rod was more like a staff like Anders owned due to its size and I had to hold it firmly when it vibrated near Coin. The functions were too familiar to me and I easily dispelled the energy surrounding Coin after remembering the correct command.

“You...abomination!” the Arvaarad screamed as the spell began to wear off.

Roghart thrust his sword through the qunari's stomach and withdrew it while stepping back. The wound would have been fatal to the most, but despite the gurgling and bleeding, the Arvaarad was determined not to collapse in front of the people he thought to be lesser than him. His dark eyes didn't seem to be able to see his enemies anymore and I felt no pity for a man who enslaved others simply because of a talent they feared.

As the only remaining qunari swallowed the blood streaming from his mouth, Coin rose up and looked at the final moments of his handler. For the first time since my escape, I heard him speak. He thanked the Arvaarad and slayed him with a brutal spell that crushed the opponent's throat, though for the Arvaarad such a death was a blessing. His kin were despised to the point where people would prefer to let them suffer till the crows pecked their faces off.

Sand swept on my shoes when the qunari fell on the ground with a loud thump. My heart was beating hard and I sighed. Coin took off his golden mask and revealed the stitches over his lips, as well as scars I didn't recall him having.

“It is done,” he said, silently.

“If you can talk now, then perhaps you could explain what the hell is going on?” Roghart demanded.

“A trap to you, like you might have guessed already,” Coin answered, looking at the wide sea. “To me, salvation.”

Stunned, I gave the most puzzled look which he met.

“The Arishok has failed his duty,” Coin said, his yellowish eyes locked on me. “I cannot serve a leader who has lost his purpose and who has become weak, so I didn't return after the storm separated me from the tribe.”

Cussing that I had no writing tools, I signed a message to Anders and pointed at the Saarebas. His brow furrowed and he reluctantly agreed to translate.

“Reneka wants to ask about what happened,” he told Coin, not showing any friendship towards the horned man.

My method of communication didn't seem to interest Coin as he made no comment of why I didn't write on the ground like I had used to back at the tribe. “The Arishok has become obsessed of retrieving what was stolen from him, including you,” he shot a grave glance at me. “He won't lead the tribe out of the city before he's got what he wants.”

I turned to Roghart and he required no aid to put the pieces together. Even after lowering my gaze, I could sense the jolt that had washed over him. Surprisingly, Isabela stared at the qunari like a vicious feline at the cost of being identified, though I doubted any other than the Arishok and his warriors could recognize her. The Saarebas were not known for being part of the discussions and we had been left behind with the Arvaarads when the Tome of Koslun was being retrieved.

“The qunari in Kirkwall, your people...,” Roghart breathed, each of his words having a weight of a thousand blades pointed at his enemies. “You are the ones who kidnapped my sister?”

Coin's silence didn't emit guilt or consent, but it answered Roghart's question well enough. “The Arvaarad don't need to rationalize themselves to us, which is why I cannot give you a reason for what occurred. In fact, I am in no position to respond to your queries any longer, as this is as far as I go.”

A cold shiver raised the hair on my skin, confusing me of why I got a melancholy sensation. Coin's chains clattered in a tempo that could have been from a funeral song as he paced towards a hill ahead. A sound came from my mouth and Anders caught my hand, shaking his head when I ogled at him.

“The Arishok is deaf to any suggestions,” Coin spoke as he walked. “I cannot follow a leader who makes my collar feel like a prison. I am of the Qun and can't live free without my Karataam. My life belongs to the tribe and the Arishok and if I don't think sacrificing myself for them is a right course, there's nothing but a dead end for me.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard!” Anders protested. “Is that what you think of Reneka as well? That she should die rather than be free?”

I bit my lip and released myself from Anders' hold. He called my name once as I ran to Coin, blocking his path and looking him straight in the tired eyes. My knowledge of the Qun didn't help my opinion of Coin's plan. The qunari were extremely faithful and he had always hated me for not accepting my fate and live like all the Saarebas did instead of whining and crying. His past self never rushed to my aid if I ran out of strength, yet he had protected me against the bandits and his Arvaarad.

Blinking twice, Coin kept the eye-contact, displaying no signs of retreat. “No,” his voice was almost kind. “She's not of the Qun. She's...something more.”

His statement had left me so bemused that I hadn't noticed his extended hand and the necklace he had in it. It was a simple leather cord, but I could detect some powerful force in its core, like there was a vortex that sucked all my attention. I hadn't seen the talisman on Coin or on the other Saarebas before and I speculated that their collars had always concealed them.

“Allow me to give you a piece of advice,” Coin said to my brother. “Never, ever let Red go all out.”

I lifted my gaze to ask Coin what he meant, but he used the opportunity to stoop down and string the talisman around my neck, his thumbs brushing my skin slightly. “However, if you really must someday,” he whispered into my ear quietly, “then you should be equipped like a Saarebas when the worst comes to pass.”

I trembled and my lips parted, seeking for a response though I had no voice. Not once during the years of my capture had I thought that I belonged to the qunari. The tribe was the courtyard of my prison and my collar had been the cage. Learning their language wasn't a privilege, but a coercion. I didn't choose to kill the enemies of my tribe. It was a job that had ensured my life if I performed well.

But the Saarebas had been my family. They weren't as comforting as mother and my brothers and I don't believe I could have survived if they had treated me with silk gloves. I shared my moments of weakness with them and we laughed in a joint choir. Our meals were finished together and the damp, cold sleeping quarters were tolerable because we all slept there. The Saarebas followed the Qun and prepared to die for their people, but none had tried to convert me. Coin's words had always been the harshest and not even he had ever turned against me.

I crouched and wrote 'why' on the sand, choking back tears that I shouldn't show to a dedicated man who had a clear purpose.

“Why I must die?” Coin clarified from me and I nodded. “Simply because it is what the Qun demands and you know it. Still, had my Karataam survived, I wouldn't have changed my mind. I don't see a road to follow and I know you understand this.”

I hadn't forgotten any of the talks between me and Coin, mostly because it had been so rare for him to speak to me alone at the tribe. No matter how patriotic he had sounded at times, all his speeches contained the same wisdom the qunari women taught their young. I might have chosen him as an example for me to achieve had I not been imprisoned.

“Why have I helped you?” Coin suddenly asked my question and I sprung up to hear his reply. “You are the one who named me as a 'person with two sides'. Our last meeting was unexpected as my only goal was to kill my Karataam to die with them. Now, I can say that because this encounter confirmed you are alive, it was all worth it.”

My teeth clenched and I stood like a statue when Coin turned his back at me and faced the sunset. No-one had interrupted him and Roghart's blaming leer had softened. Their mere presence improved my mood and I wanted to thank them for witnessing Coin's final resolve.

A wave struck the rocks of the hill as Coin inhaled and spread his arms. “Red,” he called, “killing Spark and the others is the same as freeing them from the tribe under the current circumstances. Do not hesitate and do not pity us.”

In an instant, Coin was engulfed inside high flames and the heat reached me, releasing the secret tears I had been holding back. It had been Coin who had evoked an oppressive feeling in me of being weak when I had been thrown into the room the Saarebas shared. Oddly, it had been him again who had drawn that same emotion from the depths of my consciousness and I truly hoped watching him burning alive would be the last time I had to feel such anguish ever again.

There had to be and end to the misery I kept teasing myself with. I wanted to search for a balance of how to live happily while remembering my past.

Without taking a look, I knew Anders had closed the gap between us, his eyes at Coin who had fallen on his knees after the fire had purified his soul and removed it from its vessel. I wanted to squeeze Anders' hand, but it would only prolong my crying. I had decided to get rid of my weaknesses one at a time, so if I couldn't help my tears from welling, that had to be allowed for me to gain strength.

Like Coin had commented, I wasn't of the Qun. I was permitted to cry for a fallen soldier despite him being a mage. I had a permission to honor the man who might have only pursued his beliefs, but had impressed people by doing so, duty or no.

 

 


	15. Somewhere Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to BioWare and the readers!

For some reason, the amulet Coin had given me radiated similar safety as a shard of red lyrium did. I felt no immense power from it and guessed that it had to be activated somehow. Merely being a mage wasn't enough to discover its benefits.

The road back to Kirkwall was long and quiet. The truth of the qunari in the city must have hit my brother hard and I noticed he kept his hands balled, unable to relax. I couldn't hide in a corner and cry how unfortunate I had been, but like Roghart had stated at the Blooming Rose, my capture had left a wide scar on the family which was not easily healed. The fact that Roghart had dealt with the Arishok without knowing his true colors would only make it worse.

My opinion of the qunari as a race couldn't be changed in a flash and if my almost identical brother shared any of my traits, I doubted he would look at them the same way he had till now. He likely couldn't trust the horned men if I had an issue regarding them.

At least that was how I perceived my brother. His words weren't always the kindest ones, but they were edged with concern and his will to protect. It was also possible that Roghart wasn't going to be troubled because of the qunari, though his clenching fingers told me otherwise.

Anders and Isabela seemed no better. My tribe had to be looking for the Tome of Koslun. Isabela may have managed to dodge the qunari in the city for now, although not even her amazing luck could last forever. The Arishok had faced a thunder storm in order to catch her, so I couldn't think of anything he wasn't willing to risk to find the pirate captain. Losing a sacred relic must have been a greater stain of dishonor than my escape, despite my unique capability of withstanding poisonous lyrium.

I glanced at Anders and he quickly signed ' _Are you okay?_ '

A genuine smile was my response, though I felt he wasn't convinced. Of course I was saddened by Coin's death even though we weren't close. His decision to leave the tribe and die honorably rather than live as a rebel was hard to understand, but I had no right to question him. He had used his last moments to aid a fellow Saarebas, ignoring any dispute we may have had in the past. By slaying his Arvaarad, he had also removed one of my worst enemies. My freedom would have been easily taken away with a collar and one control rod in the hands of a Saarebas handler.

The tribe was in Kirkwall and no amount of tears and stomping would change that. The whole world was unfamiliar to me and I hadn't cut my shackles to wander alone aimlessly. I had met people who I wanted to include in my life and no qunari could make me afraid enough to abandon them.

 

#

 

The night had turned the sky black by the time we reached the city. Most workers were headed to the bars and the Hanged Man to quench their thirst, having no worries of the next day's challenges a hangover might bring. A couple of children ran through the street were walked and their laughing cheered me up a little. Such innocence was a delight to my eyes after so much pain and sobriety.

Suddenly, Roghart stopped and I stayed in his shadow, concerned of what emotions I might have seen in his face. I gave Isabela a look, but she merely shrugged.

“Isabela,” my brother said, “you go ahead and confront the traitorous Sister. I have to take Reneka home.”

I winced, mostly because I was still unsure how to face mother after avoiding her for days. My solace was the tone in Roghart's voice. He didn't sound angry nor frustrated.

“Sure thing, Rogue,” Isabela answered without protest. “Although the meeting place is right opposite your uncle's house, you know.”

“This cannot wait,” Roghart shot a serious leer at the pirate captain. “I have no time or interest in playing with Petrice now. Whatever she has to say, you can tell me later.”

I gazed at Anders, searching for his advice and saw approval. His opinion wasn't necessary to make me believe that going home was the best course of action considering the situation. Nevertheless, I felt more comfortable knowing that he agreed.

“I'll go with her, make sure that templar guard doesn't get any ideas,” Anders sighed.

“I thought templars were the bane of mages, not the other way around,” Isabela smirked.

“My plan was to prevent you from dying of blood loss in case that templar decides to test how well does his blade pierce pirate flesh,” Anders sneered back.

“I'm so overly assured of my safety,” Isabela chuckled before turning into the direction of the building where we had met with Petrice.

Their receding backs was a more pleasant sight for me compared to the door of the house where mother was waiting. For years I had avoided making mistakes in fear of the consequences. Playing the good dog was expected from every Saarebas and the punishment was severe if the orders and the tribe's wishes weren't obeyed. I had found that out the painful way and it taught me not to ever act as brashly as I had at the Rose. The sweet sensation of owning a free will had clouded my judgment, blinding me from the effect I had caused because I hadn't cared for anyone but myself.

I still defended my decision of helping Fenris, but Roghart had been right about the mistake of my secrecy regarding the matter. We were a family again and our bond would grow stronger only by cooperating and honesty. I didn't even dare to think the rage my brother would have unleashed had I known about Coin and gone with him alone.

My small, tired feet felt heavy during every step I took up the stairs to Gamlen's home. Roghart had stains of blood on his armor and he was overly careful not to touch my white shirt, although the torn cloth around my shoulder I had healed was quite visible. The curse I muttered in my mind wasn't for the wound, but for the fact that the shirt wasn't even mine. All my clothes were borrowed from Isabela and Jethann. According to him, some of the ladies at the brothel owed him favors and they had been more than happy to repay him with such valueless material as spare clothes.

Roghart took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He glanced at me before opening the door and I could hear mother's voice even before he had entered.

“Roghart!” mother called loudly and there was a noise of a chair clattering against the floor. “Maker, look at you. What happened?”

Without answering, Roghart moved forward and revealed me from behind him. There were no words to describe the shock I witnessed on mother's face and I seriously thought about escaping rather than closing the door. Gamlen didn't seem to be present, though I felt threatened enough by facing the furious leer Carver gave at me as he rushed to us.

“What the hell, Reneka?!” he bellowed. “First you disappear Maker knows where and now you come back like this?!”

Carver obviously meant my injury, as he couldn't see that the wound had been cured. My eyes didn't wish to meet his, no matter how I fought back and tried to look at him to accept the outcome of my behavior.

“Calm down, Carver,” Roghart said in a clear, sober voice. “She stayed at the Hanged Man, gathering her thoughts.”

“What? _Now_ you tell me?”

Roghart walked to the dinner table and lifted the chair my mother had knocked down when we had arrived. He snapped mother back to the reality by putting his hand on her shoulder and gesturing her to sit. “We need to talk. All of us.”

“Talk?” Carver spat. “Is that how we are going to get past this mess?”

“Carver, please,” mother pleaded silently, still looking at me.

“You may be able to let Reneka do whatever she likes because of what happened to her, but it doesn't change that she went way overboard! Now is not the time for her to be so imprudent!”

A chill froze my body and I ceased breathing, as if waiting to be hit. My throat was filled with a disgusting taste and I turned my gaze away, to hide both guilt and anger.

Roghart's armor clinked and his boots crunched as he marched to Carver and grabbed him from his collar, pulling our brother close to his irritated face. “For fuck's sake, Carver sit down and shut the hell up!”

An united reticence fell into the room. I swiftly took a seat across mother, at the end of the table and chewed my lower lip. The air between my brothers was dark, like a thunder cloud that was ready to strike at both of them. Roghart let Carver go and put his sword leaning against the wall beside the fireplace before sitting next to me, glaring at Carver till he followed his lead.

When he was satisfied, Roghart interlocked his fingers and let his arms rest on the cool beechwood. There wouldn't be a subtle way to reveal the current situation to mother and I observed a look on my brother's face that told me he was aware of the stalemate.

“The qunari in the city,” he finally said with a pause, as if he was reconsidering. “They are the same who captured Reneka.”

Mother gasped, her hand covering her mouth, and Carver's shock wasn't any lesser. Their loud, stunned responses mixed together and Roghart stopped them to prevent unnecessary clash of strong words. He eyed at them until they had calmed down, which eased me a little.

Gathering her composure, mother looked at me with distress. “Is...is this true?” she asked carefully and lowered her chin when I nodded.

“Maker...” Carver shook his head, clearly feeling uneasy and embarrassed.

“They are here and we can't change that,” Roghart said. “The Arishok has stated that he won't leave, though I haven't been able to figure out his reason. Now, I haven't the slightest interest in discussing with the man. I'm pretty sure my sword-arm would react faster than my common sense.”

While listening to my brother's strict voice, it made me rethink the impact his new attitude towards the qunari could have. Slavery wasn't a memory one could erase, so I was justified to damn an entire race due to personal experience if that was my choice. Roghart was going to make numerous avoidable enemies if he took the opportunity to get revenge. I would happily join him to cause misery upon the qunari, but a personal vendetta was not my goal and it shouldn't be his either.

“The main question is how this changes our situation,” he continued, his body still as stiff as a preying cat's.

“Is there even doubt?” Carver puffed. “We need to leave Kirkwall without delay. These monsters are not going to get anywhere near our sister.”

“And go where?” Roghart retorted. “Mother has worked hard to acquire the estate back. No Witch of the Wilds is going to take us back to Ferelden this time and Lothering is destroyed anyway.”

He stood up, looking like a commander of a great army about to make the final assault, his chin high and eyes gleaming. “This is our home now. I won't put our mother through something as wearing as traveling to an alien city, because Ferelden is unreachable. Here, we will have a status that can protect our family. No matter how close those filthy animals are, I will never let them hurt Reneka again and tear us apart.”

When I watched my mother's reaction, her eyes were grieving, but there was rosy color on her cheeks. Her fingers weren't curled, not like Carver's. I couldn't tell if his blood boiled due to being opposed or because he hadn't known of my whereabouts. The rank of being the little brother was a concept I couldn't comprehend and I wasn't able to recall the feelings of a sibling.

Despite my loss of proper childhood, I had connected with my relatives enough to understand how our state of affairs was influencing the way everyone looked at each other. Roghart must have stepped up after father's death and the burden of heavy decisions reflected on him. Every time events were about to escalate, he had started to blink slower, like even the most insignificant movements had to be carefully performed.

It also made me wonder how I must seem to everyone, with only gestures and expressions to convey my thoughts to them.

“That is how I feel,” Roghart concluded his statement and sat back down. “Of course, it is only a suggestion. The decision is Reneka's.”

I gazed at him, perplexed and uncertain what he meant.

“No-one can make you stay,” he elaborated. “Not me, Carver or mother. Only you can choose where you want to be and with whom.”

“Are you saying that we should let her leave the city alone?” Carver grunted.

“For once put yourself in her shoes, Carver,” Roghart sounded displeased. “Fleeing from the Rose was an error, but her reasons weren't. I've already explained what we argued about, so you should be able to put the pieces together.”

Carver actually flinched and took a short glimpse of mother before lowering his head, biting his lip and staying silent. Mother must have heard about my temporary room at the Hanged Man. It was the only way I could explain her more serene manner towards me when compared to Carver.

My deepest desire at the moment was to have the ability to properly apologize and clarify what had led me to hide like a child. I was thankful that Roghart had told my family about our fight. Pushing such affairs away would only make the shadows even darker and I enjoyed the light I hadn't had in my life for so long. Once I had tried to keep a secret that had concerned another Saarebas of my tribe. The pain, hunger and desolation it had caused weren't something I ever wanted to experience again.

Gamlen's house may not have been the nicest, but it had an unbroken roof and a fireplace to provide warmth. I could sleep on an object that was worthy of the name of a bed. The food mother cooked was beyond anything I had tasted with my highly weakened sense. Even without a tongue, I could taste the spices and the carefully prepped ingredients with every swallow. Despite Carver's permanent bad mood, I wouldn't change anything about the feel that always conquered the main room. All the laughter and bickering was sincere, factors that defined a home.

It was home. A place with a door that barred all the ugly things the world had to offer outside.

I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from the dinner table where mother had gathered them and wrote _I'm not going anywhere_ , then showed it to Roghart.

My brother sighed, as if he had anticipated my answer. “You sure?” he asked and I knew he wasn't going to question again. Still, I replied with a smile.

“Very well then,” he said simply and rose to his feet. “In that case, I would like to speak with you in private. We should go outside.”

“ _Tsk_ ,” Carver let out a disappointed sound, his teeth tightly pressed together.

Following Roghart was my first reflex, but after I had turned my back to mother, the sensation of fleeing came over me once again, like our relationship would be determined of in which direction my toes were pointed at. I whipped my head and looked at my mother, scanning the features on her face that made me realize how much I had lost. Her hair wasn't gray when the qunari had captured me.

“Go on, dear,” she breathed quietly, her lips arched. “I will prepare something good while you're with Roghart.”

Her words didn't express it, but I felt that she was welcoming me back home, that no quarrel or the years spent apart could possibly cut the link between us all.

 

 

#

 

 

“I'm sorry about Carver,” Roghart said immediately once we were outside, climbing the stairs down to the yard.

_Don't be, I understand_ , I wrote on the sheet of paper I had remembered to grab from the table before leaving.

Roghart gazed at me for a while before walking towards the alley near the elven alienage, the place I hadn't visited since meeting Fenris there. I could still smell the blood I had been forced to spill, but it didn't ignite remorse. I only regretted my inability to foresee an ambush and without red lyrium the alienage would have become my grave.

The colors of dusk played in the sky and the daylight was dimming. Roghart's calmed aura relieved my nerves, though I doubted he had fully forgiven me. If I had learned something during my life, it was that not even time could heal all the scars. I was a walking example of such a saying.

As I let my gaze rest at the sight of flying seagulls flocking far away, Roghart stopped at the entrance of the alienage. The _vhenadahl_ tree was visible from the upper street and I spotted an elven child playing beside it, carefully keeping a respectful distance from the holy symbol. After a while, I noticed that Roghart was watching the elf as well, with an expression I could only describe as wistful.

“The qunari are not the primary threat in Kirkwall,” he stated suddenly.

I begged to differ, but I was smart enough to figure what he meant. Kirkwall was a templar city and no matter how protected I was by Roghart, no mage could escape a templar's blade if they saw even a jot of corruption in them. The shards of red lyrium weren't exactly a mitigation were I ever taken to be questioned by the order. Though for me the Arishok and his tribe boded more ill than a hundred templars would.

Roghart looked at me, waiting for my attention. The laughter of the elven child rang in my ears, but I couldn't let myself to be lulled. Ignoring the pleasant feeling with great difficulty, I stared into my brother's eyes that were bright even in the last light.

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall of a building beside him. “The templars have almost too much control over the city,” he said in a low voice. “When we arrived a year ago, the city guards decided what to do with all the refugees from Ferelden, but I suspect the templars had a vote in the process as well. Anders is the only mage I've seen who hasn't succumbed to madness while living in Kirkwall. Most have resorted to blood magic in desperation and the majority of the ones we have encountered had to be put down. The rest are hiding, too afraid to show themselves.”

_What about mages among the refugees?_ I asked on the paper.

“As I said, the templars likely affected the process.”

His answer was short yet sufficient. If the templars had detected mages in the groups of refugees, they wouldn't let them enter the city freely as an apostate. Such dangerous individuals would be taken to the Circle, bound to their fates like the golden statues of the slaves which had greeted me and Isabela at the city gates. The heavily-armored men all around the districts didn't exactly strike me as friendlies and I rather stayed away than took my chances at finding a few exceptions.

A shout in the alienage made me search for the source and I saw a young female elf approaching the playing child. She glared at us, clearly with dislike and shooed the boy inside the house of a open front door. I didn't need to be standing next to the woman in order to hear her call us _shemlen_. The way she and so many other elves shunned humans wasn't new, though I could think numerous more despicable beings than other humanoids.

As the two elves ran inside their home, I started to wonder how many of them had seen my fight with its flying splatters of blood and the screams of death.

Roghart had been staring at me for some time and all I could do was to stare back once the child had disappeared. His gaze was intense and I sensed he had an important announcement to make, but the words wouldn't come out. Just because he wished for me to be free and independent didn't mean he liked my decision.

“For you, this rotten city is the least fitting place to live,” Roghart relaxed his arms and took a couple of steps back and forth. “That is why I have a proposal.”

My eyes blinked as slowly as his did of curiosity and gestured him to continue.

“Me and Carver are joining an expedition to the Deep Roads supervised by Varric's brother. We've taken different jobs frequently to save the money that is needed to partner up with him. There are some unfinished business we have to take care of in Kirkwall, but the departure will be soon.” Roghart faced me, his stance as firm as a king's. “I think you should come with us.”

My lips parted and I couldn't look into my brother's eyes directly while coming up with an answer. Kirkwall may have been infested with templars and qunari, but they were more familiar enemies to me than the darkspawn of the Deep Roads. My tribe had encountered them, but not often. I had even killed more bears than darkspawn.

Shuddering, I recalled my thoughts during the family meeting. My home was where the people I loved were and no horned man nor a mage slayer could drive me away from them. The darkspawn were about to be added to that list.

I was compelled to ask Roghart, so I unfolded my paper and wrote _Why?_

“Well,” Roghart began, rubbing his neck, “mother wants to buy her estate back and the treasure from the Deep Roads could help her in that. I can't deny her wish to be a proper Amell again and while money can't buy everything, it will be quite helpful in order to restore her family name. Plus Anders happens to own maps that will prevent us from walking straight into a darkspawn nest.”

When I was going to clarify my question, Roghart put his hand on mine. “You're not seriously going to ask me why I want you to join the expedition?” he chuckled, looking the most stunned. “Even if it's only for a while, the trip will take you away from the qunari and the templars. I'd call that a vacation.”

An awkward snicker escaped my sealed mouth and I hurried to remain solemn. Asking me to participate in a dangerous mission couldn't be easy for Roghart, but I understood his intentions. My skill of handling myself was obvious to him, but as a member of a family with a mage, he was aware of the templars' counter measures. I figured his conscience wouldn't let him leave me behind, because I would offer the same if our roles were switched. Although I didn't require his constant concern, I appreciated it and it made me feel more like a sister to him.

“Besides, it's not like we're going to fight the darkspawn alone,” Roghart grinned. “Carver will be there to slice some hurlocks in half and Varric can shoot the bastards before they even smell us.” He took a pause to inspect my reaction. “Anders will be there, too.”

No matter how I tried to hide it, I couldn't hold back my eagerness. Roghart snorted, trying to keep laughter in and quickly turned his head, giving me time to pat the heat on my cheeks away.

_Mother will oppose this idea_ , I wrote, behaving like nothing had happened.

“I know,” Roghart said. “I will persuade her somehow.”

His answer wasn't very helpful to ease my suspicions, but trust was among the most important matters we had to mend. If a man such as my brother couldn't charm one stubborn lady, then my view of him was upside down.

“So, about the business we still had to solve before the Deep Roads,” Roghart brought up, clapping his hands together. “I must pay a visit to an elven clan in Sundermount. I'm thinking of leaving Carver to investigate a strange murder in Kirkwall with Varric. I've seen Fenris fight, so I'd be a fool not to have him as my backup. If Anders agrees to join, there is still room for one more mage I'd gladly take along.”

_Isabela's not coming?_ I asked with disappointment.

“After her usual 'drink till the cows fly' -ritual she performs at the end of every mission? Trust me; if a dishonest Sister doesn't leave her too bitter to fight, the amount of ale she's going to consume today will.”

This time I was more than satisfied of Roghart's reply. I was reminded of the first bites of red lyrium and its effects on my unadjusted body. Forgetting the so-called hangover was even harder. No future headache and displeasure could plague me the same way the lethal drug had. Coin had warned be that the sensation would be similar to being drunk and mad at the same time, both of which were foreign experiences to the Saarebas'. A qunari mage would never live to tell the tale of how he felt after succumbing into madness.

If Isabela's hangover was going to be as vile as mine had been, I would rather fight without her aid.

 


	16. Witch of the Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! It's been a long time.  
> I've been working on my own novel. Completing it has become more important than ever due to some work-related issues. Sadly, this leaves less time for Reneka's story, but I'll do my best to finish it. The next chapter begins the final quest, so hopefully I'll be able to wrap up the first act soon. It means a lot to me if some of you have waited this long for an update.  
> Special thanks to Bioware and the awesome readers.

“There it is,” Roghart pointed at a settlement of elves ahead of us. “The Dalish clan.”

I hadn't met any true Dalish elves before in my life, so all my information was from the stories an elven prisoner had once told me when I was a Saarebas. While seeing a clan full of Dalish was enough to astonish me, I had to admit to myself that not everything I had hoped to find was there. Tents in all sizes were scattered around the area, but none served any other purpose than shelter for the night. Bitter disappointment made me swallow hard when I couldn't spot a single snow-white halla creature anywhere. Some members had gathered around the fire where an older elf seemed to be focused on teaching the young ones near him, but there were no children. Like the female qunari of my tribe, his hands created shapes in the air and some movements resembled the signs I had learned from the Mages' Cant, only they had no clear meaning I could decipher.

Everyone looked peaceful to me, but as I witnessed their faces upon our arrival, I was confused of what to think. Elves with bows or swords tied to their belts reacted by taking an obvious formation; two hunters kept a safe distance from a silver-haired woman who approached Roghart and four elves with light leather armor stood in half a circle, blocking the path to the mountains while the two warriors who had let us in ensured we couldn't turn back until declaring our intentions.

Nervously, I glanced around our party and attempted to read their reactions. When I saw Fenris, I couldn't help but admire how composed he was, even when the elves clearly glared at him as well despite being their kin.

“They are just cautious, we're not threatened,” he suddenly said, perhaps because he noticed my fidgeting.

“I guess you would know,” Anders sighed, like he had received a permission to be at ease.

“I'm speaking from experience, but not the sort that's gained from living among them,” Fenris corrected. “In case you didn't know, the Dalish customs is not how I got my markings.”

Before Anders could reply, I signed him to quiet down, tilting my head at Roghart who greeted the elven woman.

“Are you the leader of the clan?” Roghart inquired. “I was asked to bring this to you. I assume you're familiar with it?”

My eyes followed Roghart handing a finely crafted amulet to the elf and her gradually changing expression told me she recognized it immediately. She didn't blink in perplexity and scanned my brother, as if not wondering who we were, but how such an item had fallen into human hands. It also emitted a weak presence of magic stored within, so skillfully hidden that it made me question the nature of the previous owner.

“ _Andaran atish'an_ , travelers,” the woman bowed her head. “Indeed, I do lead this clan as their keeper. My name is Marethari.”

“I'm Roghart Hawke,” my brother replied. “Continuing these introductions would be a polite thing to do, but if my part is done, then we'd rather return to the city before it gets dark.”

“I'm afraid that isn't the case,” the keeper sighed. “There are still a few steps I must ask you to perform in order to complete your task.”

“What a surprise,” Anders snorted in a sarcastic voice.

“You need to take the amulet to an altar at the top of the mountain,” Marethari explained. “There, it must be given the Dalish rite of the departed before giving it back to me. With this, your debt will be repaid.”

The frown Roghart visibly showed depicted my thoughts accurately. Even without any knowledge of Dalish traditions, a 'rite for the departed' sounded awfully inauspicious to me, like we were about to dabble in unknown necrotic magic.

“And you're going to provide me a book or something to get this ritual right?” Roghart scratched his hair.

“No,” the keeper said serenely, gazing at the ground for a while before lifting her chin. “My First will accompany your group. I must also ask you to take her with you to the city.”

Roghart's answer died on his lips and he looked at me, then at the others, but we all shared the same abashed look. “Alright,” he finally said, his voice ringing with questioning tone. “Weird, but if that is what you wish, then alright.”

Marethari had clearly expected my brother's reaction and she glimpsed at the mountain path behind her, either searching for something specific or just evading the inquiries my brother most likely had planned about the sudden new member we hadn't even met yet.

“It is not my decision, but hers,” the keeper almost whispered. “There is a certain matter that we view very differently and to avoid a conflict, she sees no other option than to leave the clan.

“The First of a Dalish clan, abandoning her people over a quarrel,” Fenris chimed in. “Why do I fail to see sense in such a story?”

“She can explain, if that is her wish. Merrill is waiting for you just ahead. I've explained the situation to her, so there's no need to recite the story behind the amulet.”

Marethari gave a smile, though it seemed as fake as a qunari's amused laugh. When she walked away from us, her legs moved slowly during the first steps, like she had to force herself to keep going due to some hesitation. I blinked in bewilderment, wondering what the keeper truly wished to say to us.

The other members of the clan followed Marethari's example and ignored us after our talk was over. The teaching elf resumed his duties and had to raise his voice in order to make the children around him stop staring at our group. Those carrying weapons chose not to trust unfamiliar guests just yet and I saw at least two hunters with readied bows. Although their shoulders were slumped and the bowstrings weren't drawn tight, I doubted they needed more than a second to take any of us out.

I couldn't help but take a couple of glances at the elves behind me before I was comfortable enough to set my eyes forward and trust that our backs weren't going to be decorated with finely crafted arrows.

As I hurried to catch up with Roghart, a shimmering glow around the curve on the path caught my attention and I could hear unclear whispering sounds. My curiosity only increased when I saw a young elven woman holding the source of the strange light and marveled as she nimbly hid it away after our eyes met.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she quickly rose up to her feet. “I thought I was alone. You must be the person the Keeper mentioned. I'm Merrill, which you probably already know.”

Suddenly, she gasped and her irises colored in forest green and sunrise yellow glinted as she evaded looking directly at my brother again. “Ah, please forgive me. I didn't ask your name. It's okay to ask a human's name, isn't it?”

The way Merrill rambled made me smirk impolitely and I averted my gaze when she noted the expression on my slowly blushing face.

Anders leaned closer to me. “I'm fighting against the urge to tell her it's forbidden,” he said quietly into my ear and I chuckled, unable to hold it in.

The leer Roghart shot at me effectively silenced everything around him. “No harm done, Merrill,” he said. “I'm Roghart, though it seems more and more people are used to calling me Hawke.”

“Hawke?” Merrill's voice was high-pitched like a child's. “That's a nice nickname.”

“Family name, actually.”

“Ah,” Merrill took a moment to gather courage to lift her chin again. “I'm not very experienced with your kind.”

“But you do know how to complete this ritual?” Roghart frowned a little.

The distant sounds of laughter caused Merrill to lose her focus and she stared ahead at the elves of the clan. I couldn't see anything unusual in their behavior, but whatever it was that troubled Merrill showed clearly on her wistful face and I wasn't certain how to react to yet another secretive person.

Despite the moment of drifting away from the conversation, she always seemed to realize whenever I was watching her. Once again I was caught and the way we kept glancing at each other became more and more awkward.

“Ah, yes,” Merrill gathered her composure, brushing her short black hair a few times to apparently calm her nerves. “And we shouldn't delay. It is not wise to keep _Asha'bellanar_ waiting.”

“Don't mean to sound rude, but I still don't understand why you would want to leave the clan after this,” Roghart's words came out slowly and full of wonder.

“I've got no choice,” Merrill retorted and she seemed shocked of her strong response. “The Keeper and I have disagreements, so it is best for the whole clan for us not to stay in the same place. At least temporarily. Or permanently.”

“No need to be so gloomy about it,” Anders said cheerfully. “Kirkwall is not that bad once you learn to appreciate the brief moments when there are no incidents to ruin your day.”

“Incidents?” Merrill asked with serious concern. “I...suppose it can't be helped, being a human city after all.”

“Meaning?” Roghart raised his brow.

“Well, the Dalish tend to tell horrible stories about you to scare the children, so I shouldn't be surprised if there was even a hint of truth in them, right?”

“Tales about us, she says,” Anders grinned and I wanted to sign him not to tease an elven girl who clearly was prone to believe any sort of misinformation, but I wasn't skilled enough to do so.

“Oh, not you specifically!” Merrill shook her hands. “Just humans in general, which you of course are, but you're not mentioned in-”

“The ritual, Merrill,” Roghart stopped her and I heard Fenris sighing from relief behind me.

After a pause, Merrill breathed out, her fingers twiddling in a restless dance. “Yes, pardon me,” she gave a lively, unexpected smile. “Let's go.”

I could understand why Fenris didn't wear loud shoes or armor to give away his position as a fighter, but as I followed Merrill, her slim clothed figure screamed of fragility. All that was missing was a red dot painted on her to tell enemies which one to target first. Her carefree and inexperienced attitude made me a bit jealous, causing my subconscious to realize what kind of sensations I had been deprived of.

Yet I felt oddly drawn to Merrill, or rather the aura surrounding her. Though she somehow made me recall the smell of a Saarebas collar, there was something intriguingly similar in her power when compared to mine and I couldn't ignore the energy I had felt from the bright light earlier. No-one had mentioned it since and she would surely be uncooperative were I to inquire about it, otherwise she wouldn't have hidden it away.

There wasn't a term I could use to describe such magic. It had been purifying like Anders' healing spell, but some other force kept the warmth corrupted, like a well that couldn't be cleaned because it was connected to the sewer system.

 

#

 

“So she's a mage,” Fenris remarked to me after he had killed the last of the giant spiders that had attacked our group. “Nothing unforeseen there.”

“Yeah the staff on her back kinda gave that away,” Anders answered him, knowing that I didn't carry any writing tools in order to learn the Mages' Cant better. “Plus the fact that all Dalish Keepers and their disciples know forgotten arts and are thus potent spell casters.”

“Kirkwall might not be the best option for her is all I'm saying,” Fenris ended the discussion and stepped into the light outside the caverns we had cleared in order to climb the mountain.

I couldn't argue with Fenris' statement and I suggested to Anders that we should drop the subject. If Merrill was determined to leave her clan, she was going to be a lot safer with us than on her own. Her home would have to be at the elven alienage in order to stay out of the sight of templars, though it didn't mean that her identity would be concealed.

I wished I could assure Merrill that she had nothing to fear in Kirkwall while tagging along with us, but my own status at the city as an apostate and a runaway Saarebas prevented me from giving such a promise.

As soon as I felt wind brushing against my cheeks again, a sinister energy made me wince and glance around. With a few steps forward, I could see a magical barrier blocking our path. Whatever I had sensed was located right behind it, as if waiting for anyone foolish enough to break through.

“I can open the way,” Merrill said very plainly. “This will only take a moment.”

“The enchantment seems quite strong,” Anders noted. “You sure you don't want to save your mana for the ritual? Me and Reneka could-”

“No need,” the young elf kept her concentration on the barrier and stopped only two or three feet away from it.

My breath was taken away when the serene aura around Merrill suddenly turned parlous, causing a freezing chill to run across my spine. As the magic inside her grew stronger, I detected a faint whisper and couldn't tell whose voice it had been. Merrill had already drawn a knife from her pocket before I recognized the familiar power circling around her and my body fought hard not to see the look on my brother's or anyone's face when she cut her wrist, uttering a painful yelp as the flowing blood gathered between her and the barrier. It formed into a sphere which Merrill launched against the barrier, dispelling it in an instant.

Merrill's panting began to worry me, but when she was able to relax only seconds after her spell, I realized that it hadn't been her first time casting it. The light in her sparkling eyes was as innocent as ever and her odd nonchalance about a spectacle that still kept everyone's lips sealed made me more uneasy than the blood dripping from her fingertips.

“That's your solution?” Fenris commented first.

“Yes, it was blood magic, clearly,” Merrill answered hastily while casting a healing spell on her hand. “But the spirit helped us and that's what matters, right?”

“Because summoning a demon has always made flowers bloom all around you?” Anders snapped, causing me to flinch. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“They are all just spirits, no matter what you call them,” Merrill defended. “Debating about this is not what we came here for, so let's move on.”

Roghart was awfully quiet and he stayed that way while walking through the passage. His gloves gritted from clenching his hands into fists and he made no direct eye contact with anyone, like his mind was drowned in a pool of words which, if picked in a wrong order, could set the thread tying our group together aflame. A familiar feeling for someone like me who couldn't get a second chance when reacting to an affair everyone had a personal opinion of. By the time I was writing another sentence to correct the previous one, a disagreeing individual would already have his fingers locked around my throat.

I noticed Merrill's wound hadn't closed completely, which meant that she wasn't proficient in healing magic. Anders was the first person I'd ask to aid her, but his disappointed look made me wary. Blood magic was always considered sinful, yet I wouldn't be alive without it. It disgusted me and brought up unpleasant images. In the qunari tribe however, blood had been a hundred times better option than red lyrium in terms of surviving the fight and living to tell about it.

As I succumbed deeper into my thoughts, Roghart startled me with a pat on my back. “Stop thinking about it,” he said firmly. “We still have a few obstacles ahead before we can return home.”

My brother wasn't the gentlest when it came to persuading someone, but at that moment his 'pull yourself together' speech was exactly what I needed. The more I tried to analyze the status of the people beside me, the more distinctly I saw the shared hatred towards blood magic. Throwing more spice into that stew wasn't going to enrich the spoiled taste.

“Fine, we can ignore the elephant in the room,” Anders muttered and I frowned at his childish attitude.

“Shh,” Merrill halted us and reached for her staff. “I'm sure you have sensed it, too.”

“The obvious eerie necrotic energy that's almost visible? Yes.”

A weak vibration in the ground made my heart skip a beat and my hands warmed, preparing themselves to automatically cast a fireball at an unfriendly being.

“In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep,” Merrill explained while slowly moving her weapon closer to her front. “They are restless and sleep no more.”

“I'm quite certain that they appreciate your history knowledge, though I fail to see how it's going to help us,” Fenris snarled.

“There's a special meaning behind Uthenera, the slumber of the elders, that must be remembered.”

Out of thin air, a creature like a spirit appeared behind Fenris and he ducked fast when I kept my promise and hurled a fiery projectile against it, turning the spirit into ashes before it was fully manifested.

“Here's a special meaning for you, Merrill: Stop babbling and fight!” Roghart retorted.

 

#

 

Although I wasn't entirely focused, the battle hadn't left any of us seriously injured. I had spent more time observing Merrill's movements than shielding myself and others and felt slightly embarrassed when Roghart had scolded me for it after the last of the enemies had been destroyed. He was permitted to do so of course. Practicing teamwork was my top priority if I ever wished to make myself believe that I could perform without red lyrium.

Even Coin had expressed his concern of my extraordinary skill to handle such power. Although adjusting to a normal life with people to depend on was the most important thing for me after years of solitude, I had to become more independent on the pure original magic inside me for his sake as well.

When I looked at the others, I could see the difference between me and them. Anders didn't rely on the spirit that dwelt inside him, despite the amount of energy he could receive from it and Fenris rarely enhanced his moves with the lyrium on his skin. I knew Roghart's influence in Kirkwall reached much further than I had pictured and the Merrill I had seen during the fight wasn't a blood mage. She had a complete understanding of the nature all around her and she could use it to her every advantage with magic powered only by her will.

It occurred to me that Roghart had surrounded himself with people who could fill certain roles. A defender who shielded his companions and made the enemies drop their weapons before they could even lift them. Fighters with strength like a bull's to quickly reduce the opposing numbers and with dexterity to pass through a crowd of soldiers undetected, striking precisely against the weakness. A controller like Merrill could ensure that once an opponent had began his charge, the steps wouldn't take him far before magically grown roots grabbed his legs or a nightmarish illusion plagued his mind.

I wondered what my role was and whether I could find it on my own or I would be issued one.

“There is the altar,” Merrill informed us, pointing at a shaped stone on a cliff ahead. “Place the amulet there.”

Roghart gave one last look at the item in his grasp and seemed to be more at ease once he placed it on the altar and retreated, giving Merrill space to carry out the ritual. She closed her eyes and spoke in Elvish, her voice both soft and stolid, like a child who was going through the changes of becoming an adult. The language sounded beautiful and I regretted that I couldn't learn it in other than written form.

I sensed her speech slowly being weaved into a spell and inspected the area after Anders did, intrigued of what was about to happen. As Merrill finished, a faint golden dome surrounded us, releasing a quantity of energy equal to a stormy gust of wind. The flying dust was blocked by my raised arm, but I could see a foreign human figure through my squinted eyes. When the spell ceased, the amulet was gone and an old woman stood in front of us with a mysterious grin on her lips.

“We meet again, young one,” she said to my brother in the most tranquil tone I had ever heard.

Her whole existence reeked of magical force, though despite my best efforts, I couldn't detect anything unnatural like Justice in Anders' body. Either I was too exhausted or she managed to hide her spiritual energy disturbingly well.

“A witch,” Fenris spat the best word to describe the stranger first.

“Now there's an observant lad,” the mage chuckled.

Merrill bowed her head, her gaze away from the woman as if she was too bright for her to look at. “ _Andaran atish'an, Asha'bellanar_ ,” she greeted humbly.

“Do you know who I truly am, child?” the woman gave an enigmatic smile.

“I'm afraid I can't say that I do.”

“Then lift your chin and let's forget all these pointless courtesies.”

“Yes, let's do that, Flemeth,” Roghart interrupted, his irritation clear as a cloudless sky.

Flemeth's genuine laugh was like any old granny would own. “See that, child? He adapts quickly, as should you. Forget the titles and stories parents use to scare their cubs. We all have a path to follow and no fancy name can divert us from the events of our fate.”

It wasn't only Flemeth's peculiar appearance that made her seem threatening. Part of her white hair stuck out like a dragon's horns and her yellow stare was so overpowering that I constrained myself from thinking about anything harmful, frightened that she could read my mind and use it against the people I knew. But none of her visible features were as alarming as the way she choked me while doing absolutely nothing. Even if she stood there naked and bald with all her limbs cut off, the whole space around her would stop any creature with common sense or instinct of danger from approaching.

I had believed only the Arishok of my tribe could achieve that.

“I'm not interested in your delusional riddles,” Roghart furrowed. “Does this mean that you've traveled with me all this time?”

“It was just a fragment, enough to smuggle me here,” Flemeth answered with a sly sneer. “Morrigan's decision was exactly as I had predicted, so you've aided me more than you can possibly know.”

_Who's Morrigan?_ I signed to Anders while keeping an eye on Flemeth in order to see if she could somehow comprehend the Cant. Anders shrugged as a response and I allowed myself to breathe when Flemeth didn't pay much attention to my movements, though she could also be concealing her curiosity. I tried to focus on listening to the buzzing in my ears due to the breeze, but it proved troublesome when my heart couldn't settle down, causing the vein in my neck to throb.

Roghart exhaled, his arms tightly crossed across his chest. “So you're the real you, right?”

Flemeth laughed out loud. “Why should I limit myself to just one body?” she smirked. “If I could be the stream, why settle for a fish swimming in it? Or if I could be the earth, why settle for a stone lying on it?”

“You could also let me slap you so that your words start make some sense. That would be quite refreshing, I'm sure.”

Flemeth took few steps closer to us, her leather waist cloth sweeping the ground behind her. “Understanding someone like me is the least of your worries, young warrior,” the witch said in a deeper voice and glimpsed at each of us separately. “The road you must walk is filled with dark detours and it is your task to accept them while not straying off. Only you can affect whether it is a turn or a dead-end waiting for you once you reach the destination.”

A moment passed in silence before Flemeth one more of her indefinable smiles. “Some advice before I go?” she offered.

“You must know everything there is to know about all the things, so I may not be able to provide you any,” Roghart replied sarcastically.

Flemeth turned around, but not before I witnessed her show slight amusement. “The world is about to go through a series of changes,” she spread her arms, as if embracing the scenery before her. “Everything and everyone will be involved in the matters fate has planned for us and we all must play our parts. Do not hesitate to take a stand, because that is what will determine the strength of your foundation.”

She leered at me over her shoulder and I couldn't look away, like her eyes had bewitched me. “When you see your opportunity, remember the assets you possess,” she prompted. “In this world, even a wingless bird can be made to fly again.”

With no warning, Flemeth was enclosed in a golden globe that swiftly grew in size. The spell blinded me for a second, but Anders' gasp forced my eyes open. The swirling energy disappeared and a huge dragon was flying away from us further to the mountains, its flapping wings booming in the sky. Although I had seen smaller dragons before, they paled in comparison and weren't in humanoid shapes at first.

I had never heard of magic that would give a mage ability to transform into such a beast. Flemeth may not have been a human, but it wasn't only because of her unique talent or the words that dripped of knowledge beyond our realm. I still called myself a human after enduring red lyrium which no ordinary person should be able to survive through.

“By the Creators,” Merrill stood in awe. “I'm...speechless.”

“Welcome to the group,” Roghart snorted, ambling back to the mountain passage.

Flemeth had vanished into the horizon and the setting sun made it even harder to stare into the distance. I bit a grain of sand that had ended in my mouth during the gale the witch's spell had created. Trying to remove the tiny thing became more arduous than I had thought and I gave up, submitting to gnawing my fingernails instead.

“That was definitely surprising,” Anders joined my company and also attempted to find the dragon, covering his eyes from the rays of the sun.

I nodded, continuing to stare at the mountains.

“We probably should catch the others,” Anders suggested. “Hopefully the cave isn't infested with any spiders this time.”

_What do you think she was?_ I asked with my gradually improving Mages' Cant.

“Flemeth? No idea, couldn't even tell if she was truly a mage before she took the shape of a dragon.”

_A human?_ I elaborated.

Anders blinked at me and a pensive look fell on his face. “I suppose no human could have such power,” he stated. “I mean, _you_ can, but not actively.”

His answer guided my own point of view into a more sensible reasoning. The magic received from red lyrium was from an outside source. The effect didn't last and there was no guarantee that my brain wasn't fried in the process. Like Merrill's blood magic, it was potent but not without serious consequences. Using one's own life force should always be the last, desperate option. I had met Justice once and as with lyrium or blood, losing control must have been Anders' argument for not calling the spirit forth.

Roghart had encountered the witch earlier, but I doubted anything he had to say would clarify my eerie intuition Flemeth's gaze had caused. Like an oracle, she had dug into my mind and stolen a piece of a puzzle that I would find only when the flames were already burning.

I recalled what I had felt in Flemeth and her magic, how perfectly it was kept under control that I had to use my imagination to anticipate how alien and gushing it must have been. If she could add together red lyrium with sanity, blood with life and a spirit with self-consciousness, her identity was anything but human.

 


	17. Lessons in Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Bioware and the readers!
> 
> No big changes in my life. Still trying to write my novel and still having a tough employment situation. 2 or 3 chapters left of Act I, depending on how long they will be.

Fenris parted from us while we strolled through Hightown. I considered him lucky to have a house that wasn't in the middle of the pungent stench of fish coming from the docks, though Varric had warned me that Hightown tended to be even more dangerous than Lowtown, which didn't come as a surprise. The purses were fatter and guards were busy keeping order elsewhere, plus the templars weren't far away from the market square.

I already missed the cool wind of the mountains, the sound of rustling leaves and the soft soil under my sandals. One step on the hard stone tiles of the city made me aware of a blister on my foot, twisting my face into a painful grimace.

“It's so massive,” Merrill ogled at her surroundings. “Do humans really need this much space?”

I found Merrill's question silly. Her clan wasn't aware of crowded conditions of a busy market or the feeling of bumping into people just to pass through a street. Elves like her had no built walls limiting their path while humans called themselves free despite being packed in towns and cities.

“Seems so,” Roghart shrugged. “Unfortunately, the cities usually have a specific place for elves to live, Kirkwall included.”

“Oh,” Merrill blinked in surprise. “Can't wait to see it then.”

My silence could be honestly explained, but as for the others, their uneasy expressions revealed the ugly truth behind an elven alienage. I realized Merrill had no idea that even the first rust-colored buildings of Lowtown we passed were pretty compared to the area for elves that could only be described as slums. For me, any house was far more comfortable than the shacks for Saarebas', but a native Dalish was bound to be shocked of the change. City elves had only few options to uplift themselves and I wasn't going to introduce Jethann's lifestyle to Merrill, despite the better coin and a softer bed.

The distinctive decoration of the Hanged Man made Merrill slow down, her large eyes scanning the common folk like she had just realized we weren't at the mountains anymore. The way she pressed her right arm against her chest reminded me of my own confusion when I had spent my first night in Kirkwall. Like Merrill, I hadn't lived in a city before and had to be taught where to go and who to talk to, among other simplest things.

I tugged Anders' sleeve and tried signing to him, _I can go with her._ _By m_ _yself._

With a surprised look on his face, Anders stared at me and my brother when Roghart turned around to find the reason for stopping. “She wishes to escort our new member alone,” he shrugged and I sighed from relief when he wasn't clearly against my idea.

Against my expectations, the look I got from Roghart displayed trust, although with a tiny bit of suspicion. I believed that if I was prepared to make changes in my own behavior, others would understand my reasons for actions I took better and my brother at least seemed to note that this time he would be aware of what I was going to do and for who or what it was.

“Alright,” Roghart said. “I do need to go through our expedition plan with Varric. Anders, can you get the Deep Road maps and bring them to the Hanged Man?”

“Sure,” Anders complied. “I think we should all meet here anyway if we're leaving tomorrow.”

“Agreed. Reneka and Merrill can catch up with us later.”

The nature of an elven alienage pulled my nerves like a tight ribbon around my neck, but I was slightly excited to be Merrill's guide and help a person whose feelings I could relate to. After I gestured Merrill to follow me, Anders halted us and handed me a few sheets of paper and a charcoal pen, nodding once like a teacher who gave his student a permission to cheat due to the circumstances.

I smiled and gently squeezed his hand like always when I thanked someone, though my heart didn't leap so weirdly with others. Realizing how awkward I suddenly got, I let go and smiled faintly before snatching Merrill's thin wrist and dashed away. After ten steps or so, I turned around to catch a glimpse of my brother as he vanished into the tavern.

“What's the hurry?” Merrill wondered in a pitched voice. “Not that I'm complaining, but I'm still not familiar with this change and rushing forward seems...reckless.”

Bright spots of red appeared on my cheeks and I released Merrill's hand. The alienage was the exact opposite of a spectacular place, a home no-one should be delighted about. I had been so disoriented by the pounding heart in my chest that I had forgotten where I was taking out new friend.

With a hurried movement, I wrote an apology on a piece of paper and showed it to Merrill. I had witnessed various reactions from people who had found out about my disability without having to look inside my mouth, but Merrill seemed more confused than anyone. She kept glancing at the words and me, her lips parting and closing as if searching for the appropriate response.

“Forgive me if I'm wrong, but are you mute?” she finally asked and I nodded once. “I've never met a mute person before. There was a huntress in our clan everyone called deaf, but that was only because she tended to ignore us and spent most of her time alone. I wonder if she made any friends when she helped the Warden during the Blight.”

The way Merrill had begun to nervously blabber always made the corners of my mouth rise into a sneer and it must have conveyed wrong meaning as a reply, like I was somehow amused of Merrill's question.

“I thought you were just shy,” Merrill chuckled and gasped, like she had offended me and regretted deeply but I shook my hand and tried to make her understand that she hadn't hurt my feelings.

 _It's a long story_ , I wrote and Merrill displayed almost the same amount of confusion as earlier. She clearly was the kind of person who didn't recall a previous experience of the same event or a situation as quickly as someone else would. Instead, she was shocked or caught flat-footed before recognizing a familiar setting, like me talking to her on paper.

I wouldn't have been snickering in my head if it hadn't been only a moment since I had revealed my way to converse.

Merrill gathered her composure quickly. “Well I love stories, so let's have a...um, chat one day, shall we?” she struggled to figure out a correct word that could be used to describe a talk with someone like me.

I grinned as a response and continued towards the alienage. My steps were significantly slower this time, but Merrill didn't seem to notice the difference. Her gleaming eyes only added to her rather childish appearance and behavior which made me unsure of her reaction to the new life waiting for her.

We stopped a couple of times to examine the surroundings and the people. Merrill seemed to be impressed when she witnessed the larger ships at the harbor, telling me how she had never sailed before and knew nothing about the sea. Had my experiences of sailing not been related to the qunari, I would have gladly shared them with her.

I was concerned at first when Merrill remarked the obvious change in conditions between Hightown and Lowtown, though the way she compared the two by pointing out the features not to her liking made me hope the alienage wouldn't come as an utter shock to her and that she would actually prefer Lowtown. I began to regret not bringing along a person who had the skill to show her the shining side of a rusty coin, someone like Varric or Isabela. They would also have had better, more convincing methods to persuade Merrill than the folded paper with limited space in my pocket.

As we took the steps to the alienage, I could see the growing uneasiness on Merrill's face. I kept going and when I turned around at the end of the stairs, Merrill had stopped half-way, scanning the area like a puppy who didn't belong in the pack. Seeing her colorless cheeks was like watching my younger self in a mirror; the girl who was far away from home in the middle of strangers with no choice but to adjust.

She seemed confused when I offered her my hand in order to guide her the rest of the way, a gesture I meant as an encouragement. After a while, she put her cold hand in mine, causing me to remember the moment Isabela had found me on her ship and hadn't thrown me out. The powerful elven mage I had witnessed in combat looked so weak when put in a place with no familiar faces or daily customs, like she had to reconfigure her whole mind.

“ _Elgar'nan_ ,” she whispered when we reached the great tree and her bony fingers slid from my grip. “Is this really where the elves live?”

Her perplexed eyes met mine and I couldn't think of anything to say to her. It was the first time I had seen a Dalish elf moving into a human city, so I couldn't possibly know how she felt. The nod I gave her must have looked awkward and almost apologetic.

Merrill ogled around, as if she counted the people over and over again. “There are so many,” she breathed. “Where are the children? Some of them must have kids, right?”

The lively atmosphere and the sound of banter made me realize how wrong I had been to compare Merrill's change to my time with the qunari. She had choices and she could make them matter. There was no need for her to try to blend in the crowd, because she was already part of it. Some elves greeted her while passing us, like she had always belonged to the community despite the Dalish tattoos on her skin. No-one could force her to be someone she wasn't and even if she lived in an alienage, she would still be more free than I had been as a Saarebas.

There were no chains around Merrill's neck. She was the one who could teach me.

I did a quick scan of the area and tapped Merrill's arm once I found what I searched for. A smile spread on my face when she reacted to the elven boy crouching behind a wooden crate, making animal figurines with pines and sticks.

“Aw,” Merrill let out a cute sigh, her eyes following the boy as he ran to his mother to present the pieces of art with pride. “He's so...full of life. Life and imagination. I wish I had that. Maybe I would have become a poet or a painter or something. Something that doesn't involve magic. Although I like magic.”

She nimbly turned towards me and I stealthily hid the hand that was supposed to stop the stream of words behind my back. “Is it wrong to admire these people?” she asked while approaching the _vhenadahl_ tree. “They are us, but without our customs. The Dalish have always pitied the city elves and I was told that they and us were two separate races. Yet here I stand and I see no difference. Maybe that sounds a bit odd, but it's how I feel.”

 _It's not odd_ , I wrote to Merrill, but it would have taken more than pen and paper to explain my understanding to her. Being part of the Qun meant that I hadn't been a human anymore and lived only to serve the tribe by playing a specific role. I had believed it to be true even on Isabela's ship; her crew of humans were like strangers to me even though I had the same round ears and same number of limbs. It was even harder for me to identify myself as part of the crowd, no matter the shape of ears or if the person next to me was missing a finger or two.

No-one had told stories of a Dalish elf living in a city alienage by his or her own choice, so Merrill had a golden opportunity to be the first. Hers wouldn't be filled with misery and blood like mine was, but with surprising truths to replace the false information the Dalish had passed on about their people in the cities for ages. She could be part of the crowd as the single Dalish elf, just like I was the lone Saarebas in a human city.

 _You'll be fine_ , I started and took the paper back before Merrill could read it. _This is not a cage. You will make other friends besides me._

Merrill displayed an adorable smile and kept glancing at me. “We are friends?” she giggled.

 _Of course_ , I replied, a little puzzled of why she had to ask.

“I... I haven't made many friends. Most of the ones I had figured somewhere else to be after they discovered I was a mage who sometimes used blood magic.”

 _It's not new to me_ , I told honestly.

“Really?” Merrill responded too happily in my opinion.

Before she drowned me in a monologue that could have revealed too much to anyone within the listening range, I wrote a message and lifted it close to her face, _As your friend, I politely suggest that we don't discuss about this topic in public._

“Oh, right,” Merrill blushed and bowed. “Sorry. It's nice to have a friend to tell you when to shut up. Not that I need to tell you because...err, I mean-”

I grabbed Merrill's hand and held it tightly but I didn't squeeze it too much. When she blinked in confusion, I playfully poked her nose and chuckled, waiting for her to grasp my meaning. First she grinned and soon it turned into genuine laughter which she quickly muffled when even the city guard at the entrance leered at us, like we were suffering from an episode of insanity.

“I think I'm going to enjoy having you as my friend, Reneka,” Merrill stated while rubbing her nose.

There weren't lot of people I could compare Merrill with when listing those I considered as my friends. Both Isabela and Jethann had saved me, so I owed them more than my trust. They were wise and strong, but Merrill was perhaps the first person I had befriended without any special circumstances.

 

#

 

After Merrill and I had toured her new home, we made our way to the Hanged Man. I hadn't been surprised that an alienage house wasn't that different to Gamlen's. Kirkwall had a crystal-clear divination system that favored the rich and blue-blooded and stomped on the poor and wrongly gifted like the mages. Sometimes Lowtown felt like an alienage for humans who had more freedom than elves, but had to suffer from the same rats and mold in the corners of their homes.

At least Merrill's new apartment hadn't reeked of rotten flesh and the spiderwebs hadn't gathered any dust. I liked to think that she had gotten lucky and had received one of the better houses, though a pessimistic voice in my head said that the previous owner had recently either passed away or been captured by the city guard or the templars.

There was a faint drizzle outside, just enough to call the weather rainy. The missing sun plus late evening had emptied the streets and the Hanged Man wasn't even half-full due to the next day not being a holiday. It wouldn't even have been unbearable noisy if not for the group of heavily drunk men occupying a large round table in the far corner. When a customer scratched his messy gray beard while circling around me to get outside, I instinctively tousled my hair and patted my arms, afraid that I had caught head louses.

Merrill hadn't taken one step, her face frozen in discomfiture. She shuddered when I took her hand, but as I stared in her eyes, I detected slight excitement.

 _Are you okay?_ I wrote the question.

“This place is amazing!” Merrill almost shrilled and didn't seem to notice how it awoke everyone's attention. “Is this what humans call a tavern? Or a bar? It certainly looks like one I once saw in a picture book.”

I nodded, still not sure why she was so thrilled.

“The Dalish have nothing like this,” Merrill said, sniffing the air with a queasy expression. “It smells of puke and alcohol and burned fat. Is that normal?”

 _Why are you so happy?_ I asked bluntly.

Merrill read my paper and the usual childish grin returned to her lips. “It's so dirty,” she chuckled. “Isn't that great? There's no need to try and impress anyone even though I'm new. I still have vallaslin on my skin and I was raised as Dalish, but that bears no meaning here. Strange how such an environment makes me feel a bit closer to those who live in a human city.”

The point Merrill was trying to make would have gotten lost in the wind if I hadn't been sober. The Dalish were more privileged than their cousins in alienages, yet Merrill had instantly remarked how little anyone would care of her background, whether she was mingling with the people in the Hanged Man or the city elves. Her quick adjustment made me wonder why it had been so hard for me to learn self-esteem after running from the qunari. Was it only because Merrill had gone from living freely in nature's embrace to obeying the strict rules of a community, a start and finish line that were completely reversed when compared to my life?

I tried to adopt Merrill's point of view and looked around the tavern again. A bard was playing a lute near the stairs, but he didn't have a bowl on the floor for coins. His clothes were shabby and both of his knees were patched, yet he wasn't playing for money. My gaze moved slowly from the bard to the next man and the next until I stopped to watch a table where two men were playing cards. The taller one was dressed in his civies, but wore an emblem anyone could recognize around his arm: a sword surrounded in flames.

“Should we proceed?” Merrill asked, gesturing me to lead her further in. “No point in standing here, right?”

I uttered a complying sound and attempted to appear as non-suspicious as a mage passing a templar could. The man had no reaction whatsoever. Not even our eyes met. Even if she hadn't meant to do so, Merrill had showed me the mentality of belonging to a group while ignoring all the characteristics that could define me and make me an outsider. We were just people who had happened to enter the same place in order to enjoy our free night.

Of course I realized that not everyone was willing to shake hands with me. While Merrill was able to make me feel less categorized, she needed to learn how to tell a commoner from a high-ranking officer in a city, the subtle thread that couldn't be cut just because one hadn't been told about the rules. She seemed to do fine in the Hanged Man, but I shuddered at the thought of a templar knocking her door and how she would respond when an innocent stare with sad puppy eyes didn't work.

It was a lesson I would gladly offer Merrill in exchange of getting to know her and her culture better.

 

#

 

I barely slept that night after going home with my brothers. All Roghart's acquaintances had been present at the Hanged Man, gathered around the large table in Varric's fancy room. There had been a female guard named Aveline I hadn't been introduced to before. Anders and Isabela had been there and I had certainly missed many of their smiles and comments about me. I couldn't remember finishing the strawberry and peach drink Varric had ordered for me, nor the details of the expedition that had been discussed. There was a faint image of Merrill leaving earlier than us in my head, but some other voice said that it had been Fenris.

I had been too excited to focus on anything else than one truth that kept floating in my mind like a maple leaf playing in the wind with no destination.

My vacation was about to begin. I was about to put thousands of miles between myself and my qunari tribe. I wasn't going to share the same air with the Arishok for some time.

The moment was going to be only temporary, but it caused me to hum a joyful tune as I got dressed. After Isabela had insisted, I had given her the permission to buy me clothes and as I watched myself from the dirty, broken and only mirror in Gamlen's home, I was glad that it hadn't been a mistake. She had chosen a new deep red tunic with black lines around the hems and wide sleeves that reached my elbows. My new black pants were slightly longer than what I had worn before, leaving half of my calves exposed and the leather belt I tied around my waist had a couple of pouches on it. Besides not limiting my free roaming, having no armor or any extra layers of clothing suited me better as I had gotten used to taking advantage of a whole battlefield by constantly being in motion.

The sun had risen high by the time I had woken up after rolling in my bed all night, unable to attract the spirits that closed my eyelids and ensured they remained closed. I took father's necklace from my pocket and hung it around my neck, twiddling with the mysterious crystal till I could see my own reflection. I liked to think that it magically kept me safe in unfamiliar areas and the Deep Roads was definitely on the list.

On the desk of the bedroom was the talisman I had received from Coin. His last words were still a bit vague to me. _Don't let Red go all out_ , he had said. When have I not given everything I've had in a battle? Was there a moment in my life I had forgotten about?

Sighing, I grabbed the talisman and put it on, listening how it clinked against father's amulet. Whatever Coin had meant, I couldn't let it mess with the clarity and resolve my mind had achieved after cumbersome work. I couldn't be called Red without red lyrium and the shards I had left were either with Anders or Roghart. No-one had given them back to me after the episode at the Blooming Rose and I had chosen not to look for them. I was going to become stronger with the help of the people I cared about and my own ability.

I wasn't surprised that sleeping late meant that no-one was there to greet me in the living room, not even my brother's mabari. Roghart had taken all of his gear, Carver was still staying at the Hanged Man for me to have more room and only my sandals were by the door. A lovely scent made my head turn to the table where slices of freshly baked bread was waiting to be eaten. Mother wasn't home either, but I could imagine her early in the kitchen in the blue apron that was folded neatly over the back of her chair, her hands kneading the dough and shaping it perfectly round. I almost felt bad cutting such a beautiful bread and covering the slice with cheese.

It irked me that I couldn't hug her before leaving. I didn't know if Roghart had told her that I was going with him or if he had decided to keep it a secret. There was not much room for secrets if I wanted to reconnect with her.

 _Vacation_ , I repeated to myself in consolation and wondered if I was the first ever to consider a trip to the Deep Roads as such.

I washed the rest of my breakfast down with two glasses of water, hopped into my shoes and finished tying the leather strips while opening the door. If I had been looking up instead of at my feet, my alarmed heart wouldn't have tried to jump into my throat when I saw Isabela, her hand raised like she was about to knock.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, more amused than regretful. “Did I startle you?”

 _Curse you_ , my mind told her as I squeezed my chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. I made a mental note of the necessity to mention to her how easily I was spooked.

“Rogue sent me,” Isabela put her hands on her hips. “You know, the tall guy with even taller sword and a sister who apparently needs to be fetched because she likes to make people wait? That Rogue.”

My fingers were hastily digging for the paper and pen in my pocket, but Isabela stopped me. “Come on, let's go already,” she snatched my hand. “We'll chat on the way.”

Not sure what she meant, I shut the door behind us and let her decide the pace. I had assumed Isabela wasn't coming to the expedition. She had been drunk last night, but had loudly expressed her opinion; 'what a waste of time', 'who would want to voluntarily go anywhere near the dark spawn' and 'there's nothing but darkness, darkness, ugly monsters and more darkness to be found' were some of her quotes if I recalled them correctly.

The anonymous faces of Lowtown made me miss the people of the underground. It was important for me to mend the broken bridge between me and my family. Cowering in Jethann's hideout just because I sometimes got uncomfortable or personally hurt was no longer an option, but the mages and other residents of the underground had been kind to me and they had taught me much about the world the qunari had deprived me of.

It had taken a bit more effort for me to separate the speeches of hatred and rock-hard facts from each other, especially when most of the information had come from those who couldn't fit in the society that was ruled by men with enough power and coin to destroy their reputations.

Isabela had been awfully quiet during our walk until we neared the border of Hightown. “Before we continue, you must promise me one thing,” she stated and I stopped to hear her out. “Do you remember that huge explosion you caused with a cannon on my ship?”

I lifted an eyebrow and nodded to keep the conversation up.

“And the shape I found you in over a week ago, you remember that too?”

The grave tone in her voice made me reach for a sheet of paper, thinking that I had to quickly begin to clarify some details of my abilities and their consequences to her before she wouldn't be able to treat me as friendly as she had, indefinitely. My own conception of not letting the past define me any longer halted my hand however and I lowered my gaze, not certain how to meet Isabela's keen eyes when I had no idea what to expect next.

“I don't know what the fuck you did to make all that shit happen,” Isabela put weight on her right leg, leaning against it. “Anders told us you had lyrium in your body when you were unconscious, but he couldn't or didn't want to say more about it. He merely described your condition as 'being drugged'.”

My thumb and index slowly picked the writing tools from my pocket and I wrote, _He was correct._

“But that's not the whole truth, is it?”

I shook my head with shame.

“All I understand is that you are capable of playing with some dangerous magic in order to cast more potent magic,” Isabela snickered. “I mean, a fireball from a cannon? Who the hell can do that?”

 _No-one_ , I admitted. _I'm not supposed to be able to do something like that, no-one is._

Isabela took my hand, removed the paper I was holding and folded it four times before giving it back. “I don't require an explanation,” she specified. “I only want you to promise me that you'll be more careful. Your survival in the Deep Roads or anywhere won't depend on your strength only, that's not your fate anymore.”

As I mused on whether there was a hidden message inside Isabela's simple request, the matter was clarified when she presented a small leather pouch to me.

“Anders told me to give you this,” she said dryly.

A lump got stuck in my throat when I sensed the red lyrium, its energy bleeding through and calling me. My Arvaarad had warned me that the corruption usually started with a soft song only the user of red lyrium could hear, but my connection to the poisonous drug wasn't so simply explained. Red lyrium didn't sing to me and I hadn't become addicted of it, yet it somehow always managed to find its way back to me. It twisted my stomach even if I didn't let it enter my body. As I glared at the shimmering aura around the pouch, I recalled how nice the morning had been without feeling the control of red lyrium and wanted to throw up. I almost did in fact.

I reluctantly took the shards, hoping that none of my friends and family had touched them. Isabela gave me the most disapproving leer.

“I don't agree with him,” she pouted. “Even though you've promised me, I think you shouldn't have these.”

 _Why didn't he give them to me himself then?_ I wrote.

“Because your brothers share my thoughts and I know you don't wish Rogue to hate Anders, which is precisely what would happen if he did this.”

 _What about you?_ I asked with concern.

“Pfft, Rogue won't hate me!” Isabela laughed heartily. “Why do you think I persuaded the healer to follow my plan? I play to win, honey.”

Isabela's transformation from being unnaturally uptight to her regular casual self was a relief. Her grin infected me like a curative disease, making my lips curve up. Red lyrium might have elbowed its way back into my pocket, but that was exactly what I was going to call it; an extra passenger.

My hand moved fast as I read Isabela like a book for children and wrote to her, _What sort of favor you made Anders owe you?_

Giggling, Isabela pinched my shirt and dragged me closer. “He had a key that opens the wine cellar at the Circle of Magi in Ferelden. Guess who's going on a treasure hunt after business has been concluded in Kirkwall?”

I joined her in restrained laughter, not ruining her moment by pointing out the flaws in the plan of raiding a place that was the very example of 'how to guard every inch of an enclosed space like your life depended on it'.

 

#

 

The marketplace we passed in Hightown caused less noise than the group of dwarfs and humans that lay one block ahead of us. As we got closer, I detected familiar faces and Isabela was already waving at Roghart once they spotted us. Aside from Anders, my brothers and Varric, I couldn't recognize anyone.

“About bloody time!” the dwarf next to Varric grunted. “If your brother-dear here hadn't paid a handsome sum to participate, I wouldn't have delayed the trip just for one gal!”

“A very useful gal, might I remind you Bartrand,” Varric spoke for me. “Trust me, she's going to be an asset you don't want to miss.”

The dwarf kept mumbling angrily and turned to order the men who were packing crates of food and water. Everyone seemed to be in a rush and I was amazed of how efficient the dwarfs were when working together. Not a single person was left without a task and witnessing the flow was like watching a perfect drama that captured the charmed viewer.

Despite the mocking shouts Bartrand aimed at his men, there was no force nor discomfort. I could never imagine the qunari being able to do the same. Force and discomfort were the only tools most of them knew how to use in order to speed up things.

I noticed how Roghart kept staring at me and I wore quite an embarrassed look of my face when approaching him.

“Sleep well?” he asked and I heard sarcasm in his voice.

I needed to write only two words to answer him, _Ha ha._

“Good, you're in a good mood,” he continued and crossed his arms. “We're leaving soon, I hope you are ready.”

The vexing sensation of leaving without my mother's blessing prevented me dancing from joy. Instead, I shot a quick smile at my brother and evaded his eyes, trying to focus on something neutral and non-interesting.

When Bartrand stepped on a wooden box like it was his pedestal, Varric smirked and met my inquiring glance at him. “He loves to give a speech before big missions like this,” he vilified. “Just pretend that you're listening and it'll be over much sooner.”

Bartrand's words didn't include any unique praises or moral-lifting promises. Varric had been right with his recommendation and I searched for a new target to vacantly stare at. Anders appeared in my sight and I was compelled to respond when he smiled at me. While he was needed in the Deep Roads because of his maps, I wanted him to be present because of the gentle and safe feeling that caressed me every time I was near him.

“Wait,” Bartrand paused, “who invited the woman?”

The interruption snapped me back and I prayed my cheeks weren't too flushed when turning around to see who Bartrand had meant. The shock of seeing my mother caused my mouth to open. I rejoiced while tensely biting my lower lip, unsure which emotion should remain stronger.

“Mister, I need to speak with my children,” mother pleaded. “Just a couple of minutes.”

My legs functioned only after Roghart gave me a careful push. I couldn't interpret mother's expression, not even when I finally stood at arm's reach from her. Thin strands of gray hair sweeping her skin in the wind made her look wistful as she blinked slowly and took invisible breaths, eying at me and Roghart.

“It's going to be alright, mother,” my brother reassured. “You don't need to worry.”

“Of course I do,” mother said. “Are you sure that she should go as well?”

“She needs this and you know why. Besides, we would be shorthanded without her.”

“Yes. Yes I do, but... Isn't there anyone else who could take her place?”

“The rest have other matters to attend to. This I've also explained to you.”

My entire body felt light as a feather when I discovered mother had been informed of my departure, though the alleviation was short-lived. Great sorrow broke the disguise on mother's face, leaving her trembling and choking back tears. My nose tickled from the inside and I rubbed the corner of my eye when it got wet, acting fast in order to remain tough for myself only.

“Me and Carver will protect her,” Roghart kept talking. “That's why he's coming as well, like I told you.”

“But you can't all go!” mother cried, making it nearly impossible for me not to cry with her. “You said it could be dangerous. I can't lose any of you. Not when Reneka is at last...”

 _I'm not alone_ , rang the reminder in my head and I caught mother in an embrace. Her sobs ceased and her palm brushed my hair, occasionally squeezing it but I didn't mind. I wasn't sure if I had succeeded in comforting her or if my spontaneous leap had dazed her. For me, the hug loosened a cascade of sensations I hadn't confronted in ages. The very fact that she was there wrapped in my arms defended the decision I had made as a Saarebas; there had good reasons for me not to give up.

The annoying itch inside my nose vanished when a soothing scent entered it. Mother was wearing a lily of the valley on the hairpin of her bun. It had been my favorite flower ever since I was little and I recollected a memory of picking them up for her, thinking that watering them to prevent them from withering would also keep the smile on mother's face.

We had no cause to yearn for the lost past. Lilies still grew in forests and my path was filled with alleys and detours. Mother hadn't abandoned hope and she deserved to be repaid for that. My life and everything we could do together from that moment on was my gift for her.

I let go of mother and took a piece of paper, writing the note of solace that made me believe in what Isabela had remarked, _I'm not alone_.

“Mom”, I uttered with extreme difficulty once again, awkward of how my hoarse voice always sounded.

“Oh,” mother smiled like I had wished for and cupped my face in her hands. “I know you're not. You're definitely not alone, my sweet girl. And I realize how important it is for you to get out of Kirkwall, even temporarily.”

Causing such pain to her made me want to apologize, but she clenched my hand, stopping the pen. “It's okay,” she said mellowly. “I support your actions.” She kissed my forehead and helped my chin up with her slender fingers. “Be safe, Reneka. Stay close to your brothers and your friends.”

She nodded at Bartrand without saying anything and took a couple of steps back, not saying anything as Roghart muttered a 'thank you' to her and joined the others. It had been my intention to accompany him, but the farewell made me desire the company of a non-family member, not matter how pleasant it had turned out to be as opposed to hysteric screaming and blaming one another.

For a while, I took no account of mother's presence and leisurely walked to Anders, my eyes sneaking a swift peek of him before fixing at Bartrand who was more than ready to lead the group forward, his large hands combing his braided mustache. I appreciated the fact that Anders didn't ask about my welfare and it was his sympathetic silence that calmed me.

“Personal drama over with?” Bartrand asked my brother in a frustrated manner and received a reply that pleased him. “Then let's get underway.”

“Been a long time coming, eh brother?” Varric said with pride.

I saw Bartrand flash a genuine grin of satisfaction. “That it has,” he stated and raised his balled fist. “The Deep Roads await!”

 


End file.
